


liked and subscribed

by laraleroliro



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bottom Sakusa Kiyoomi, Camboy!Omi, Canon Compliant, Lingerie, M/M, MSBY Shenanigans, Pining Sakusa Kiyoomi, Porn With Plot, Sexting, Top Miya Atsumu, Very Large Dildos, Webcam/Video Chat Sex, author got really excited writing about volleyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 04:15:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29869011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laraleroliro/pseuds/laraleroliro
Summary: When one of his regular viewers becomes closer, the realities of Sakusa Kiyoomi—outside hitter at day, camboy at night—clash unexpectedly.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 77
Kudos: 664
Collections: Bottomi Week 2021





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**Author's Note:**

> Written for Bottomi Week, prompts: camboy ~~AU~~ , lingerie, creampie, solo play, sexting, ~~voyeurism~~ /exhibitionism, degradation (if you squint).

“Sorry, I’ll pass,” Kiyoomi says while raising an apologetic hand to wave at Bokuto, who’s staring at him with big puppy dog eyes.

“Maybe next time.” He excuses himself and turns around to walk home once Bokuto gives him a satisfied nod full of innocent credibility and enters the bar where their other teammates wait.

It’s Thursday, it’s around 9pm, and practice just ended. Since Hinata arrived in the off season—already friends with two of the team’s regulars and eager to make the acquaintance of the other players—the team’s outings have become a regular weekly event, always taking place at _Akabeko_ , the small bar down the street from the gym.

The establishment seems cozy and well maintained to Kiyoomi, though he had never been inside. He passes by to get to practice every morning when it’s still empty save for the staff that seems to consist of one big family, and he passes by again at night on his way back home when it’s bright with incandescent lights and packed with lively people. Even if he had never cared to become a patron, he had known about the weekly “all you can drink” special for around a month before his teammates decided to give it a try and consequently make a tradition out of it.

Every Thursday, after their cooling down stretches and showers, Atsumu, Bokuto, Hinata, and Adriah religiously walk together to go there. Inunaki seemingly joins them once or twice a month, though more often than not it’s just the aforementioned quartet that goes for drinks and snacks.

At first, Kiyoomi didn’t go with them. Always truthful to his quiet nature, he preferred to keep his distance and wait for the group to leave the gym before him so he could walk alone some blocks behind them. But ever since Atsumu caught him on the one day Kiyoomi didn’t notice that the group in front of him was incomplete, he had come clean about taking the same route to get to his apartment.

“Omi-Omi,” Atsumu called out to him before jogging in his direction to catch up. “Are you coming with us to the bar today?” He seemed strangely excited at the possibility.

“Not really,” Kiyoomi answered after clicking his tongue. The smile on Atsumu’s face narrowed to a pout at the reply, which urged Kiyoomi to offer him a brief but hopefully sufficient explanation. “I’m on the way to my place, that’s all.”

Kiyoomi had no intention of ever joining them on Thursdays, and ideally his plan would follow through without the need for any awkward conversations about _why_.

Humming, Atsumu blinked slowly as he put two and two together in his head.

He had known Kiyoomi for a long time, so hopefully Atsumu would have remembered that Kiyoomi would rather keep away from crowded places like bars, especially on their busiest days. Not that Kiyoomi really expected Atsumu to respect it, as pushy as he had proven himself to be time and time again in all those training camps and tournaments that they attended together during adolescence.

“Oh, I see… Well, let’s walk together and we can part ways once we hit the bar.”

“Sounds good.” Kiyoomi nodded and resumed walking, unsure of what to make of Atsumu’s uncharacteristic lack of persistence.

Maybe he had just witnessed Atsumu experience an extremely rare moment of clarity, or maybe Atsumu had been so tired from picking at him during practice that he decided to let Kiyoomi off easily. Either way, Kiyoomi could appreciate not having to deal with any of the setter’s unprompted remarks regarding his social habits.

They didn’t talk much that day except for a small chit-chat about the day’s practice, and soon after they went their separate ways.

Any enlightenment Atsumu might have achieved that night disappeared the next day when he blew the whistle on Kiyoomi less than an hour into practice and trapped him into joining his group of friends during their Thursday walks to _Akabeko_.

So, at present, Kiyoomi has been tagging along with the group until their destination.

He still declines any requests of going inside and ordering any drinks, which the other guys never really argue. Sometimes, Bokuto whines slightly and makes him promise he’ll join them next Thursday, sometimes Adriah asks “ _not_ even a beer, man?” while looking concerned. The only constant is Kiyoomi’s final, “Sorry, no. I’m going home.”

The only constant, that is, apart from the usual wave Atsumu always offers him through the windows before he goes.

It’s surprisingly nice how much closer he is to the team since they started this, Kiyoomi ponders as he takes a seat in front of his laptop and starts it. He can talk more freely to the guys now, who seem to better understand his reclusive tendencies and even appreciate his prickly sense of humor, as they decided to call it.

Every time he refuses to get into the bar with them, the brief flash of disappointment behind the commotion his friends cause seems to be genuine. Kiyoomi supposes his teammates believe that he just takes his time warming up to people, and that’s why he’s always opting out of their weekly Thursday night hangout.

 _Convenient_ , Kiyoomi thinks as he watches the clock on his monitor round up to 10:30pm. He’s never been good at coming up with excuses anyway, so it’s perfect that he doesn’t even need to in this case.

He lets out a long exhale and straightens his back.

With his mind now purged of any of his teammates’ shenanigans, he gives his desk a final once-over to make sure he has everything he needs nearby: hand sanitizer, dry wipes, lube, a vibrating cock ring, and a pair of bullet vibrators.

He adjusts the camera one last time and hits “live stream.”

***********

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***********

On Friday, loud and excessive laughter fills Kiyoomi ears before he even steps into the gym.

“Bokuto-san!” he hears Hinata shout, extending every single possible vowel in their teammate’s name with that high-pitched and nasal tone that should easily be able to shatter all of the windows in the building.

Kiyoomi’s been familiar with his teammates for long enough to not be surprised at how energetic they can be at any given point in time, but honestly, the ability they—Bokuto and Hinata, specially—have to reach their full potential this early in the morning might never ceases to amaze him.

“Let’s work hard today,” he says subtly before crossing the door threshold to enter the gym. He’s just in time to watch Bokuto let out an exclamation of surprise as Hinata leaps forward to tackle him down. Hinata fails to and ends up bent in half, hanging from Bokuto’s shoulder, kicking his legs and laughing like the easily entertained kid he is.

Kiyoomi walks up to Adriah, Inunaki, and Atsumu, whose wheezed out laughter played as background to Hinata and Bokuto’s antics like in a sitcom. They straighten their backs slightly when Kiyoomi approaches, but they burst out laughing again when they see Bokuto and Hinata doing whatever behind Kiyoomi's back.

Atsumu wipes the tears gathering in the corner of his eyes with the back of his hand, struggling to catch his breath. “Good morning, Omi-kun,” he manages to say in between some remnant chuckles from his laughing fit. His hair is a bit messy today, like he didn’t have the time to fix it properly before leaving for practice. It looks kind of good like that. Natural.

“Should I ask what the ruckus is about?”

“No! Please, no. Not again!” Inunaki begs and then bends down to hold his stomach, chest already starting to heave. Adriah slaps his own thigh and snorts like a madman.

“Bokkun… Bokkun—” Atsumu is cackling again, dumbly repeating Bokuto’s name in failed attempts to start telling Kiyoomi the story. Harsh and strident, his laughter pierces Kiyoomi’s ears and travels straight to his brain, wherein it plants the image of an unowned pair of hands tickling Atsumu until he’s rolling on the floor, breathless. It makes Kiyoomi want to laugh, too.

Behind his mask, the corner of his lips begin to curl up.

“What did you do?” Kiyoomi asks Bokuto, whom the funny story seems to be about. As it always is, actually, if what Kiyoomi’s been told is correct. His fellow outside hitter seems to be a magnet of unexpected and random hilarious situations, like witnessing a tiny car full of clowns stopping by the gas station he’s at, or like walking into the wrong locker room right before a match to find the opponent team’s coach shaving their ball sack as a superstition.

Bokuto, oblivious, points at himself and gawks, shocked that Kiyoomi could ever accuse him of anything.

“Yesterday at the bar I was telling Bokuto-san about the parties I used to go to with my roommate,” Hinata steps in, “and I told him about this game we used to play. You put your glass upside down by the edge of a table, and then you have to tap at the rim to—”

“Flip cup,” Kiyoomi concludes before Hinata derails. Hinata is a good guy: dedicated to volleyball, attentive to his health, resourceful when on court. His attention span? Terrible.

“Omi-san, do you know flip cup? That’s unexpected! I didn’t think you would be familiar with… uh… games. That aren’t volleyball, I mean. Anyway, we should play together one day!” Hinata derails despite Kiyoomi’s best effort.

“Omi-kun here went to college, Shouyou-kun, remember?” Kiyoomi feels Atsumu’s hand pat his shoulder once, and he hears that little snort Atsumu always lets out when he tries to be playfully rude. “I bet he played a bunch there. Right, Omi?”

Not true, considering Kiyoomi preferred not to go to many parties when he was in college. And in the ones that he did go to, he had opted to sit out of any drinking games involving cups that came from questionable origins. He frowns when he thinks of Hinata not exhibiting the same level of care, but he mostly does it out of habit. Kiyoomi’s past being wary of Hinata’s adventurous and carefree existence, which is so opposite to his own.

“Once or twice,” is how Kiyoomi decides to reply, just to avoid turning himself and his university habits into the main topic. It doesn’t really work though, and all of his teammates around raise at least one brow at his simple yet apparently shocking confirmation; even Atsumu, the one who brought up the whole thing.

“And you still refuse to come drink with us, Sakusa-kun?” Adriah says. If it were humanly possible to physically manifest emojis, Kiyoomi swears that Adriah’s current expression would resemble a hurt-looking semicolon-hyphen-semicolon.

But before Kiyoomi can open his mouth to excuse himself, Atsumu speaks first. It’s snarky in a way that makes Kiyoomi roll his eyes, but it lacks malice. “Guess Omi-kun is a changed man now. Too old to get wasted on a weekly basis, yeah?”

The statement is inaccurate on so many levels that Kiyoomi cannot even begin to mentally enumerate them. But it makes everyone laugh, and that’s good enough of a diversion from Kiyoomi’s personal life, which he can appreciate.

“So Shouyou-kun was telling Bokkun about flip cup after we had some beers yesterday, right?” Atsumu turns to face Kiyoomi and looks him in the eye as he narrates the latest anecdote. “He explained the game to Bokkun in detail, even told him about how he was the best at it in Rio. And, well, you know how Bokkun is a competition idiot, right?”

Two things cross Kiyoomi’s mind as he listens:

One: _can anyone here just go straight to the point_?

And two: _aren’t you one, too?_

That the laughter-induced crinkles forming around Atsumu’s eyes and on the bridge of his nose are somehow cute absolutely does _not_ cross his mind. It doesn’t, because Inunaki is cracking up again at Atsumu’s quip, and Inunaki’s laughter echoes in Kiyoomi’s head loud enough to drown out whatever Atsumu-related thoughts Kiyoomi might have that are not _so annoying_ or _toss to me_.

On reflex, Atsumu laughs too, and Kiyoomi gives up on quickly getting to the story’s climax. He stops once Hinata retells Bokuto what he just said, earning him a flick to the forehead courtesy of Bokuto.

“Ouch, that hurt, Bokkun! Anyway, anyway.” Atsumu seeks for Kiyoomi’s eyes again, and then continues. “Bokkun wanted to try playing flip cup too, and he couldn’t miss the opportunity to play against Shouyou-kun, who seems to be so good at it, yeah? So of course he wanted to play right then and there. But Shouyou-kun forgot to mention that the cups are supposed to be disposable!” Atsumu says like it’s the funniest punchline in comedy’s history. And it might as well be since _everyone_ is laughing again, including Bokuto, the clown.

But it makes no sense to Kiyoomi, so he simply raises an eyebrow and expects Atsumu to realize that it’s not funny at all and to hopefully elaborate.

“Omi-kun, please! Can’t you guess what happened next?”

Kiyoomi, who doesn’t specialize in Bokuto Koutarou antics, cannot.

“No. Just tell me already.”

“Okay, okay. Our good, brilliant, friend Bokkun here, eager to beat Shouyou-kun, the renowned master cup-flipper, chugged his glass of beer and _then_ tried to flip it like a disposable cup! And you know how strong the dude is, yeah? So obviously the cup flipped easily. What he didn’t expect to happen, though—” Atsumu pauses for dramatic effect, “—is that he’d shatter the glass all over the table like that!” Atsumu shouts and then immediately starts laughing uncontrollably; his laughter is followed by everyone else’s.

Kiyoomi snorts at the stupidity and joins the collective fit of laughter, turning his face away to try and hide his blatant scorn from Bokuto. That was very Bokuto-like, indeed, and Kiyoomi couldn’t help thinking about the confused face he must have made and ends up laughing his ass off.

“And then–and then,” Atsumu continues once he recovers his breath. “He snatched Adriah’s glass and tried again!” Kiyoomi’s eyes then meet his, and for a second Kiyoomi thinks Atsumu’s chuckles are all he can hear amid the fuss.

“He pushed the shards away with his arm and just lied down, all sad because _Hinata must have lied to him about the rules_ ,” Adriah adds in between cackles. “It was the most hilarious thing in the world.”

It’s so absurd Kiyoomi just doesn’t have any other option than to believe it. “Oh my god,” he says, tears in his eyes. “Why are you like this?” he asks Bokuto, and he laughs and laughs.

“Like what?” Bokuto asks back in all seriousness.

“Doesn’t matter. We love you, man,” Atsumu says while slapping him on the ass and then leaves to practice underarms with Captain Meian, who had been watching them from afar through the corner of his eye.

Their little group scatters around to do warm-ups in duos, and after that practice continues as usual: serve drills, spike drills, block drills, first string versus second string, mixed teams, position swap. Giggles can still be heard from around the gym whenever Bokuto’s name is mentioned, and during a water break Kiyoomi even catches Hinata apologizing to him for the misunderstanding he caused.

“Wanna try that pipe attack today, Omi-kun?” Atsumu approaches him as soon as Coach Foster releases them from drills for free practice.

They’ve been trying to synchronize this attack since Kiyoomi joined the team, so ideally it should be ready for debut during their first game of the season against the Schweiden Adlers a week from now.

At first it had been hard, and as much as Kiyoomi hates to admit it, it had been mostly his fault.

The volleyball team he had played for before joining MSBY was, by definition, a powerhouse. They had reigned absolute in the collegiate level during the whole time Kiyoomi played there, and for years prior they had already been established as the ones to watch out for, always posing a threat to the big names they faced in every championship the team had participated in.

It’s no wonder that his collegiate team lured in passionate and talented players like Kiyoomi himself.

And that strong lineup, combined with a very conservative team of coaches, had naturally resulted in a predictable—but still unstoppable—team.

Middle blockers are supposed to block and hit quicks, wing spikers are to score with powerful spikes, and the setter is supposed to enable them. What’s the point in getting crafty if the playbook works fine, right?

For this reason, Kiyoomi wasn't surprised when Miya Atsumu, play collector extraordinaire, called him out on his inexperience with pipe attacks on their first month of joint practice.

“That setter of yours in Waseda was good, sure, but he was _way_ too basic in my opinion. You’re great at what you do, Kiyoomi-kun, but that’s no reason to keep you in your little comfort zone! I know you can do it, so from now on you’d better not slack off and just jump from wherever I ask, got it?”

Back then, Kiyoomi’s nostrils flared, as though to let off the steam from his blood boiling in his veins. As far as he could recall, he had won a couple of titles over Atsumu during their time in high school, so why the _fuck_ did he think he could go around lecturing Kiyoomi about slacking off?

These days though, after spending weeks practicing this attack with Atsumu, Kiyoomi realizes that Atsumu was right. He had gotten so used to spiking the high, third-tempo, basic tosses his previous setter often sent him on the front court, and because of the high success rates of those attacks, the full potential for pipes had gone unexplored.

“Nice kill!” Atsumu compliments him today, smiling proudly as if he had smashed it himself. The ball traveled in a nasty sharp angle and hit the left corner of the opposite attack line with a loud noise, and then it flew off to the right, courtesy of Kiyoomi’s signature spin.

“Holy fuck, Sakusa!” Inunaki yelps all the way from the sidelines, noticeably shivering.

His palm stings due to the spike. He looks back at Atsumu, who stands in their private gym just as he would in an official venue—like he _rules_ it—and clenches his fist around the reddened skin of his hand, triumphant in that fleeting symbol of their newest achievement.

It’s undeniably true that Atsumu is cocky, smug, and too straightforward in his demands. But as Kiyoomi found out in the last few weeks, once you acknowledge that his attitude comes mostly from a place of evidence-based self-confidence, the setter is surprisingly easy to tolerate.

To admire, even.

“Nice toss,” Kiyoomi tells him. His words are paired with a thumbs-up and a faint smile.

***********

Kiyoomi probably shouldn’t have told his friends about knowing how to play flip cup.

Ever since, they have been on his case, relentlessly asking him to play with them during their next hangout at _Akabeko_.

“C’mon Omi-san! I can’t wait to play with the Waseda flip cup champion!” Hinata challenges Kiyoomi over text on Sunday. Kiyoomi doesn’t bother asking him how the fuck he came up with such a title. Actually, Kiyoomi doesn’t bother replying at all.

“Just one round, Sakusa!” Bokuto begs repeatedly throughout Tuesday’s serving drills. “I practiced over the weekend at home and I’m sure I can beat you and Hinata by now!”

Bokuto’s determination is somehow commendable to Kiyoomi. He’s probably the one to best understand putting your mind this hard onto something, efforts based on nothing more than a whim.

Although this is pretty much as far as fathomable goes when it comes to Bokuto.

If what Adriah told him is true, apparently Bokuto bought eight packs of 50 disposable cups just to practice, not having realized that he doesn’t have to dispose of each cup after using it for flip-cup just once.

Every so often Kiyoomi wonders how that setter from Fukurodani wrapped his head around Bokuto at all. Maybe he should ask Atsumu if he managed to do it, too.

He tries but fails to, when the topic comes up again on Thursday during their final stretching session.

“Sakusa-kun, you’re coming with us today, aren’t you?” Adriah asks expectantly. The team is flying to Sendai for their match against the Schweiden Adlers the next morning, but the weekly night out still seems to be happening. “Even Inunaki-san and Oliver are coming this time to watch Bokuto-kun and Hinata-kun play.”

“I’m putting a thousand yen on Bokkun. He’s gotten really good at it.” A sigh follows Atsumu’s words; he seems to regret knowing about the improvement. “The guy sent me videos of himself flipping cups all weekend.”

Thinking about Atsumu watching those videos with a puzzled look on his face makes Kiyoomi snort. Atsumu smirks back at him and Kiyoomi sees the taunt coming before it leaves his lips.

“I bet Omi-kun could kick his ass though, if he manages to put the same gross spin on the cups like he does to volleyballs.”

“I’m gonna kick _your_ ass if you call me gross again, Miya.”

“I’d love that, Omi-omi. Come at me.” Atsumu’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he takes a high guard.

Kiyoomi half-asses a low punch at the setter’s unprotected stomach and Atsumu lurches forward, faking a cough. “Woah, you’re such a badass, aren't you?”

“Shut up.” Kiyoomi graces Atsumu with an annoyed eyeroll, then shares a brief and lighthearted laugh with him. “Seriously now. Not that I’m interested in playing flip cup with you _at all_ , but I can’t go out on Thursdays. I have to be home as soon as practice ends.” After saying no to his teammates many times without ever giving them a proper reason, he trusts them to not question him about _why_ —though he should probably have started thinking of a cover for his weekly online exhibitionism a long time ago.

“That’s too bad, Omi-kun,” Atsumu whines as he bends over and reaches down for his toes. “I mi- uh. _We_ … miss you there.”

A 46-milliseconds-long pause occurs.

Atsumu tries to push his head further in between his stretched knees and _moans_.

Out loud.

The pause hits and crosses the one second landmark.

Which is long enough to make Kiyoomi want to implode, or to swallow his entire fist, or to point at Bokuto Bokuto-ing in the other end of the gym and just run all the way to his childhood home in Kanto.

“Uh… Thanks.” Kiyoomi damns his voice for being so weak.

Adriah, also known as the most blessed man on earth as of right now, clears his throat. “Anyway man, we can always schedule another day of the week so you can come with us. Now, shall we get going?”

“Sure,” Atsumu and Kiyoomi reply in unison. They don’t look at each other, but they fall into step behind Adriah to go get Hinata and Bokuto.  
  


**  
  


The awkward atmosphere between Atsumu and Kiyoomi is quickly dispelled by Hinata’s and Bokuto’s excitement to finally start the season.

Hinata walks while bouncing on his heels, all smiles and giggles after coach Foster announced he would be the starting opposite hitter in this Saturday’s upcoming game.

“I’m finally gonna beat Kageyama!” he proclaims at the top of his lungs, like a proud king would during a public declaration of war. One could definitely say it’s inspiring, given how long Hinata has obsessed over defeating Kageyama Tobio, his sworn rival. But what’s most intriguing to Kiyoomi is that Hinata doesn’t seem to realize that he’d just overthrown Oliver Barnes, the team’s current starting opposite hitter, MVP of the 2008 Olympics’ final. A living legend by all means.

Obviously, Kiyoomi will not be the one to tell Hinata that, as he can’t afford to have him rambling about it—or about anything at all—for the next week. So to avoid lecturing Hinata on the very successful careers of each one of their teammates, he averts his attention to his own sworn rival, Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It’s been months since the last time Kiyoomi lost to him: it was during his last Kurowashiki tournament, after being rendered useless by the experienced blockers of the opposing team and failing to receive more than half of the southpaw’s spikes. Wakatoshi-kun had become a very good friend to Kiyoomi in the last few years, but the thought of him in a volleyball setting is still enough to make Kiyoomi see red, just like it used to back in middle school.

For a second, Kiyoomi is able to visualize himself on the court: soaring from the back zone, the feeling of the Jackals uniform clinging to his sweaty skin as he bends back and then forward, Atsumu smiling up at him when he spikes at full strength and closes the game at 3 sets to 0 with their brand new combo.

It’s exciting to be playing in his very first V.League: to think about beating Wakatoshi-kun, to know Atsumu of all setters is going to be there to pull out the best from him. Kiyoomi balls up his fist inside the pocket of his track pants. He can’t help but feel like he’s going to win it all.

“Sakusa-kun,” Adriah’s voice forces Kiyoomi back to reality. “Are you really not joining us?”

Everyone is looking at him enthusiastically. He realizes that he had been standing there, stuck in his head, and looking at nowhere specifically for some time. “Sorry, I really can’t. You guys have fun.”

“Omi-san…” Hinata whines, and Barnes stops him by ruffling his hair.

Adriah nods and turns around to enter first, leading everyone in after him.

Atsumu stays behind.

“Last chance to come in, Omi-kun.”

He sounds nervous, though Kiyoomi isn’t sure how he’s able to tell. “I really have to go home, sorry.”

“Ok then.” Atsumu takes a step towards the front door, still looking back at Kiyoomi. “Just thought that you might want to celebrate your status as a starter, too.”

“I’ve been a starter since the last Emperor’s Cup, Miya.” Kiyoomi’s confusion must be obvious on his face, because Atsumu’s tone goes up a notch.

“I know, ok! I know. But this is the V.League now!” he makes a face and flails his arms, like it helps make his reasoning any more solid. It’s at this point that a siren goes off in Kiyoomi’s head. Could it be that Miya was actually _trying_ to invite Kiyoomi to stay? When it’s done so personally like that, one-on-one, Kiyoomi is actually vexed about refusing.

With his brows contorted downward and his lips puckered to the right, Kiyoomi turns around to resume his way down the street.

“I’m going home,” he says resolutely. “And don’t stay too late, Miya. We have a flight to take tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Atsumu grunts, dropping his arms in an exaggerated sign of defeat. “Good night, Omi-kun!”

Kiyoomi doesn’t look back to check if Atsumu is waving at him tonight like he always does, though his walking speed wavers when he recalls the familiar gesture.

Behind himself, he hears Atsumu sigh, long and dejected, before the bell that happily welcomes _Akabeko_ ’s newly arrived clients dings once and then twice.

***********

The preparations for tonight’s live stream were made the night prior, as always.

Lined up by the computer on his desk, the usual supplies Kiyoomi needs for every session lie next to the night’s special: a set of baby pink lingerie, a black butt plug with a pink jewel at the end, and Kiyoomi’s favorite dildo, which is also black, consistent with his established camboy aesthetic.

Looking at such a kit assembled before him, excitement begins to coil up in Kiyoomi’s groin. Don’t get him wrong: second only to volleyball, getting fucked is probably his favorite activity in the entire world, and doing it on stream never lets him down, but for some reason, Kiyoomi feels like tonight is about to exceed expectations.

His cock tingles inside his pants, and with a satisfied smile, he heads to the bathroom where he undresses to find himself shamefully hard.

At this point in his career, Kiyoomi can say that he’s somehow conditioned to put out an erection every Thursday around this hour, but it’s usually later—when he’s already streaming—that the actual horniness makes its entrance.

 _Anyway, this works_ , he thinks as he rinses his hands under the hot water and takes his cock in his right palm.

The grip he has around himself is just tight enough to tease, but still he finds himself moaning as he slowly slides his fist up and down around his shaft. _This works perfectly_. He gives the head a light squeeze and holds as he reaches behind him with his free hand.

His fingertip barely brushes his asshole, but the minimal touch is already enough to make him twitch hungrily. There’s no resistance whatsoever when he pushes his middle finger in, nor shortly after when the index finger slides in smoothly to join it.

Fuck, if there’s one thing Kiyoomi has conditioned himself for, that would be taking things up his ass.

He moans without a care in the world as he fucks himself as deep as he can, aiming for his sweet spot and hitting it just right. He’s aware that two fingers do little to prep him for the toys he’s planning to play with later, but thankfully this line of business gives him all the room for some self-indulgence.

Tightening his hold around the head of his cock to avoid any consequent transgressions, he hooks the pair of fingers inside himself and pounds. From his fingertips to all corners of his body, a heated thrill rises and dissipates into a moan. At that overwhelming feel of pleasure, his legs threaten to go limp. Kiyoomi doesn’t fight it: he lets his torso drop slightly forward, giving his curled fingers more room to slam freely into himself.

It feels so good, the drag of his skin in and out of himself, so obscenely good Kiyoomi regrets not having thought about this simple but perfectly effective option for tonight’s stream. He really wishes he could continue like this during the stream, but he can’t change his plans now that he’d posted a teaser picture of his toys for his subscribers.

Dutifully, he slides his ring finger inside and immediately gives in to the delicious feeling of being filled. He hums, blissed out of his mind by the succession of precise touches to his prostate.

When his mind becomes too hazy for his own good, he removes his fingers and wills himself to stand up straight and to towel himself dry.

Back in his room, the butt plug waits for Kiyoomi exactly where he left it. For someone who had been reconsidering using it less than ten minutes ago, Kiyoomi pounces a little bit too earnestly at it. He feels the tapered end with his thumb like a chef would the edge of a new knife, lubes it up, and unceremoniously sticks it up his ass.

The harsh and sudden stretch the largest part inflicts makes Kiyoomi hiss, but the sound is quickly cut short once the toy is all the way in. Butt plugs might be cute and all, but Kiyoomi always happens to find them disappointingly lacking in the end.

The lingerie Kiyoomi chose for the night, though; that he’s sure will make him as pleased as possible. The pink lace feels soft on his palms and the silhouette is so delicate that he’s sure it will make his lean build look as cute as a rosebud.

Bending down, he slips into the panties and pulls them up, adjusting the bands around his hips before analyzing the fit on the mirror. The tip of his cock peeks out of the waistband, but Kiyoomi guesses his subscribers won’t really mind that detail. He hooks the bra behind his back and checks out his reflection. His lips shape into a shy smile as his brows shoot up, gleeful. The color harmonizes perfectly with his skin and the narrow straps of the bra accentuate his shoulders beautifully.

If he remembers correctly, there’s an old garter somewhere on his wardrobe that would match the lingerie well, and once he finds it lying in the back of his underwear drawer, he adds it to the garment as a final touch. He knows he looks breathtaking, plump thighs and firm pecs crowned in graceful patterns of soft sunset pink.

His alarm clock beeps, putting an end to his narcissism: 10:20 p.m.

Ten more minutes to go.

While he adjusts the frame of the camera, his mind serendipitously drifts to a voice heavy with an accent. “ _Last chance to come in, Omi-kun,_ ” it says, a little bit hopeful, a little bit uncertain.

The sigh he lets out manages to keep his heart from dropping slightly inside his chest.  
  


**  
  


Viewers from every corner of the internet join the stream within seconds of its start, making the digital count escalate so fast it’s impossible for Kiyoomi to keep up.

The live chat boils with messages the very second the camboy steps into frame. He can’t read them well through the corner of his eye, but from experience he can tell that they’re mostly complimenting his looks, respectful in a way that’s borderline comical. It was unexpected at first, but Kiyoomi has gotten used to it by now. Some of his viewers just really enjoy acting like they’re on scene with him: they start off nice and sweet, and then they turn hornier, filthier, the transition as gradual as the content on their screen.

He loves it, to be honest. It’s actually nice to be called “pretty” before they move on to terms like “slut” and “whore” and so forth.

With his back to the camera, he poses to show off how his ass looks in his new panties. A twist of his waist, a shift of his hips; he moves slowly to give his viewers a peek of all of his good angles. All this rolling makes the plug move shyly inside him, teasing Kiyoomi and demanding attention.

Off-screen, his knees bend forward to give his back an arch that makes his ass look rounder. Then, he slides both of his hands from his back down to his ass cheeks, slowly and charmingly, and grips them, pulling them up. Again the plug shifts, making Kiyoomi gasp. He laughs internally when he thinks of how many of his subscribers will start keysmashing with just that.

Usually, Kiyoomi teases the audience for some time before getting down to business. But after the amazing prepping session he had in the shower, Kiyoomi doesn’t feel like waiting for too long. Also, he has plenty prepared for the day, so speeding things up a bit wouldn’t hurt. Nodding, he moves his left hand inward and presses his fingertips against the base of the plug a couple of times. He moans again to keep his viewers interested, then finally turns around to display the bulge behind the lace.

Messages hike up the live chat one after the other, with barely a millisecond in between each. Kiyoomi spots some eggplant emojis, hot faces sweating, and long strings of capitalized letters, but it’s still hard to read the actual texts like this. It won’t be long, though, before he has the spectators reaching for their own pants instead of their keyboards.

Careful not to show his face, he takes a seat in the gaming chair behind him and leans back, raising his legs to part them and place them on the arm rests. This is the position whose image is most appealing to him, sprawled open in display directed entirely to the camera. He fixes it in the upper corner of his laptop and watches as he strokes his cock through the fabric with a cupped palm. The sensation is interesting, soft on the pads of his fingers but rough on the sensitive skin of his cock. It’s fun to explore with careful touches, but maybe he can do that some other day when Kiyoomi’s _not_ so impatient to fuck himself.

His fingers move downwards to push the plug again. It hits his oversensitive prostate spot-on, and whilst the consequent full body squirm is fake, the mewl he lets out is very much real. It’s surprising, but if this toy is actually making him feel good for once, he might as well experiment with it a little. At the stage of need Kiyoomi is currently in, he’s sure it will get him some tips even if it turns out to be as underwhelming as it always is.

He pulls the panties to the side to free his cock and reveal the butt plug. As the streamers flood the chat with curses at the view, Kiyoomi clenches and unclenches his asshole to make the toy flutter. The sensations are subtle, but still good enough to put a naughty smile on his face. His head falls back when he grabs the stem between two fingers and twirls. The pressure inside is still light, but the direct stimulation in his entrance is so amazing that it feels unreal.

Kiyoomi doesn’t even realize how loud he’s gotten until he sees the onslaught of texts mentioning it in the chat. “You sound so sexy,” “I wanna make you moan like that,” “yes babe let me hear you” and infinite variations pop up on his screen, and well… he wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t like the attention, right? Often, it’s his viewers’ scrutiny and comments that get him going in the first place.

High on praise, he whimpers aloud as he twists the plug, pulling it out and shoving back in straight, hitting his prostate like he did with his fingers earlier.

It truly feels heavenly, but in this moment, size is what Kiyoomi craves the most. He puts a final spin on it while he removes the plug, squirming theatrically in his chair. Before he goes for the dildo, he twitches his asshole for the camera, as if signing to everyone that there is still more to come.

His tits take up all of the screen when he leans forward to get the dildo. Kiyoomi is long past being self-conscious about showcasing his flat chest, and with that glorious bra he’s sporting today, the only shame would be in _not_ giving it some proper screen time.

With his fingers splayed over his chest, he squeezes his pecs up for volume and then pinches his nipples through the fabric. It’s been a while since he had done nipple play on stream, but considering the audience’s reaction to this little teaser, maybe he should do it again sometime soon.

As soon as it sprouts, the thought is automatically stored in the back of his mind for posterity, since the only future Kiyoomi cares about now is the short-term one, the one where he’ll be coming and gaping from his thick 9-inch dildo. It’s his favorite toy from his extensive collection, and he can’t wait to get it inside him.

Once it’s properly covered in lube, Kiyoomi sits back in the same position as before. The number of viewers continued growing as he played with his tits, but as expected, there has been a decrease in the flow of messages.

He can sense the awe in some of his most recent subscribers’ texts when he finally exposes the huge dildo on camera. Variations of "fuck" and "omg" flood the chat, as well some challenges from the skeptical ones who don't think Kiyoomi could take it. But Kiyoomi is more than ready, and the messages only fuel his wish to prove it.

In one fell swoop, Kiyoomi pushes the entire length of the dildo into his hole and starts pumping it. The stretch feels fantastic, and the fast thrusts drive him insane. “Fuck,” he keens aloud after a precise blow to his deepest spot. Ideally, he shouldn’t be speaking _at all_ on stream, but his voice sounds so unrecognizable due to the staggering pleasure that he decides to not pay his slip-up any mind.

It’s like the sex toy he’s fucking himself into right now demands all of him, and Kiyoomi is ready to give. It just makes him feel so full, so good, so ethereal. Like he’s living in a world made entirely of dreams and wonders.

In such a world, a small and hoarse moan echoes all around Kiyoomi, surrounding him in earthly pleasures and heavenly bliss. It isn’t his own voice, but instead it’s a sound escaping from a shadowy place buried deep within his memory. Alone, it makes his cock throb, hole twitch, chest burn up in flames. It’s so powerful Kiyoomi has no choice but to surrender. His moans resound in unison with it as the artificial heat entering him seems to become human and sentient.

It fucks him mercilessly, relentlessly, meticulously, bringing Kiyoomi closer and closer to the edge with each purposeful push. He knows the orgasm rapidly building up in his core is a devastating one, a cunning beast hidden behind a veil of darkness, ready to pounce and swallow him whole at the first opening he presents.

Kiyoomi cages it within him for as long as he's capable of, throwing it bones to nibble on before the grand feast is ready for consumption.

When he finally opens the gates, there’s a flash of golden hair behind his eyelids before his vision goes white. His whole body jolts in a sudden spasm, and then he’s coming. He’s coming so wonderfully, so intensely that he has to lean back on his chair and grab his cock to point his multiple and high cumshots to his own chest to not make a mess of his equipment.

Afterglows are always short-lived to Kiyoomi, impossible to be properly enjoyed when he has to worry about accidentally showing his face or falling asleep on camera. Today’s, though, is a particularly brief one, because now that he’s finally able to attach a face to the voice ringing in his head, Kiyoomi jolts up and snaps his eyes open in bewilderment.

He fights a cuss word as he removes the dildo, makes a peace sign for the camera, ends the stream, and then slouches back with his head in hands.

Kiyoomi admits that Atsumu is attractive. He cherishes the fact that they get along well. But realizing that he might be a little infatuated with the guy _after_ getting off to that little awkward moan is something that Kiyoomi reserves the right to loathe for some time. Hell, he’d never even thought about _kissing_ Atsumu, for starters. _This is just… a whole new level of disaster_ , he buries his face deeper in his palms and sighs.  
  


**  
  


In the wake of this realization, Kiyoomi seeks for a distraction in his comment section.

Which backfires on him, obviously.

The hot topic of the night among his viewers seems to be how obscenely loud he had been today, as well as the unprecedentedly high cumshots.

Before he can reconcile the fact that the night’s highlights were connected to his newly-discovered feelings for Atsumu, a pop up notification informs him of an additional tip a viewer just left.  
  


**setballsonfire13 left you a tip!**

You received a 5,000¥ tip from @setballsonfire13!

Great stream today! The lingerie was hot and you sounded soooo sexy. I seriously thought I was gonna lose my mind.  
  


Kiyoomi’s jaw drops when he registers the tip amount. That’s twice the amount he charges for the monthly subscription of the highest tier, which this setballsonfire13 person already pays for, if Kiyoomi remembers correctly.

He’s flattered, but more importantly, he’s confused. Much like his performance today, this situation is also unprecedented, and Kiyoomi doesn’t think he can take this person's money and move on without at least saying thank you.

An idea pops up in his head, and he stands up immediately to execute it.

As a public figure, Kiyoomi has always preferred to keep his face out of anything he posts in his OnlyFans account for self-preservation. As much as he loves making adult content, he would rather keep it private than taking the risk of having his volleyball career ruined by any leaks.

But in return for five grand, he supposes he can show a little mouth.

Angling his shoulders forward to highlight his pecs covered in his own cum, Kiyoomi snaps some pictures of himself sucking off the black dildo he’d just used. He chooses the one wherein his jaw looks most stretched, his hollowed cheeks wrapping the dildo _very_ tightly. He then cuts off his face from his nose up, adds a black and white filter, and sends it to setballsonfire13.  
  


November 10

twinkiyo | 1:12am

[image attachment]

Thank you so much for the generous tip! Please accept this small treat as a sign of gratitude!  
  


Tired, he heads to the shower without even checking for a reply. There’s a lot for Kiyoomi to unpack today and doing so under the hot spray of water seems like the best way to do it.

He scrubs himself clean, his chest first and then between his legs, as he mulls over his recent discovery of being attracted to his setter, to his teammate, to Atsumu.

Loud, foul-mouthed Atsumu, whose cockiness peeved Kiyoomi throughout the entirety of their high school years, but whose dedication has proven worthy of Kiyoomi's respect and praise. Whose skin crinkles around his captivating smile, whose little goodbye waves have become a comfort to Kiyoomi.

 _Resignation_ , Kiyoomi decides on with a sigh as he turns off the water. Those feelings seem to have found lodging inside him long before he realized, their roots wrapping around his heart so tightly that any sign of struggle might prove to be fatal. _I guess I'll have to live with it_.

When Kiyoomi heads back to his bed, there’s no answer from setballsonfire13, although the message is marked as seen. He guesses it makes sense, actually, since he isn’t sure if he himself would know how to reply to an unprompted erotic picture.

He rests his back against his pillow, thinking of any options he could use in this situation.

But before he can come up with any, his eyelids flutter shut, and he falls into a dreamless slumber.

***********

Come morning, Kiyoomi doesn’t have time to spare Atsumu a single thought.

At 7 a.m., the alarm clock set to wake him up every day for practice had gone off, but Kiyoomi dismissed it and fell asleep afterwards, delighted at the prospect of sleeping in for once.

His eyes snap open at the first and obnoxiously strident note of his ringtone.

 _Shit, the flight_.

“I’m sorry, coach.” He greets Foster with a disappointed sigh as he kicks the covers off and gets up. The old man is kind and understanding, but punctuality is something one should know better than to try him with. “I’m all packed, I just need time to change and I’ll be in the gym in ten.” It’s barely a quarter past eight and the bus ride to the airport doesn’t take more than half an hour, so they should still make it before boarding at 10 a.m.

“Don’t worry, Kiyoomi.” Coach seems calm on the other end of the line. “The bus just left the gym, so we’ll be picking you up at your place. Be ready in five minutes.”

“Oh. Okay,” Kiyoomi manages before his mind goes into overdrive. “Thanks, coach,” he mumbles and hangs up, running to the bathroom. He glances at his disheveled reflection in the mirror and sighs. Lately, he’s been sighing regularly, and Kiyoomi doesn’t like it.

Shaking off the need to rethink his approach to the physical manifestations of shame, he turns on the faucet and speeds through the steps of his morning routine: wash hands, pee, wash hands again, then his face. Brush teeth. Fix hair. Body spray.

The intercom rings when he’s finished changing into fresh clothes. There’s no time to double check his bag, but he can buy any forgotten items once he’s in Sendai. He’ll grab breakfast somewhere in the airport. He locks his apartment door behind him and speeds down the stairs.

None of his teammates had ever been to his home before, so it surprises him to see some curious faces pressed against the bus windows when he comes out the front door.

“Omi-san, nice place!” Hinata mouths through the glass, giving him a thumbs up. Adriah leans further onto Atsumu, who’s on the window seat, and waves at Kiyoomi. A small smile blossoms behind his face mask when he sees Atsumu snarl and shove Adriah back to his own seat.

He enters the bus and bows apologetically before Coach Foster who nods at him, then makes his way to the back of the bus where he usually sits. As he passes, body hunched so as not to hit his head on the ceiling, he’s greeted “good morning” and “hey, man” by the team staff and the other players. He politely nods back in acknowledgement of each one.

Ready to retort against any snarky remarks regarding his delay, he stops by Adriah and Atsumu’s seat, but as none are made, he stands there silently.

Atsumu looks up at him for a quick second, but he keeps his words concealed behind his raised eyebrows. Kiyoomi stares back at him, at the morning sunbeams blowing life into the waves of his hair, at his lips pressed together in a thin line. Atsumu averts his eyes to the window, drops his head to the side, and props his chin on the heel of his hand, with his palm covering his mouth.

Kiyoomi blinks at him, slowly, expectantly, only to be met with a dismissive silence.

It doesn’t seem like Atsumu will be saying much at all.

This is not how he thought his first interaction with Atsumu since realizing how he feels would go, but maybe he had been too optimistic to believe that the same old irritable Atsumu would overlook today’s slip up so easily.

While he’s disappointed at himself for the umpteenth time today, he doesn’t sigh. Instead, he takes a step forward and drops his weight on the free aisle seat next to Bokuto.

“Good morning, Sakusa! Hinata wanted to sit with Wan-san, so you’re stuck with me today, huh. It’s gonna be fun, though. I can tell you all about how I thrashed Hinata yesterday at flip cup. And then we can plan our match! What do you think about it?”

Kiyoomi’s fingers press against his temple. It’s going to be a long thirty minutes.

“No,” he scoffs before plugging in his earbuds.  
  


**  
  


The team checks in to their hotel in downtown Sendai three hours later. The place isn’t luxurious, but it looks clean, organized, and more importantly, the staff assists Kiyoomi with all his demands, quickly earning his trust.

To everyone’s delight, every player and staff member was assigned an individual suite, courtesy of the new partnership between the V.League and this hotel chain. After dealing with packed locker rooms full of shameless guys snapping towels at each other’s butts for so many years, Kiyoomi had come to terms with the fact that privacy and volleyball don’t always go together, but given this opportunity, he’s not going to miss out on indulging in the solitude of a room all for himself.

He drops his bag on the desk next to the door, fishes for his toiletry bag, and heads to the bathroom where he treats himself to a long hot shower that washes away the embarrassment he put himself through earlier. He likes hot showers, but the frequency at which he takes them is harsh on his skin, so when he’s done he applies moisturizer to his body, rubbing circles on his limbs in the process. A little cucumber and mint homemade cream for the eyebags he got himself this morning and _voilà_ , he’s ready to order the Italian special from the room service menu and eat it in the comfort of his bed.

He tunes in to the sports news as he waits for his meal. They’re going on about the first games of the season, analyzing the best moments of EJP versus Railway Warriors that took place last night. Motoya’s performance is praised highly by the journalists, and it finally hits Kiyoomi that this is it. The season is finally on and the stakes are higher than they have ever been before. The skin of his right palm tingles in the absence of a volleyball to spike. He’s looking forward to playing tomorrow.

The doorbell rings to announce his lunch, reminding him to enjoy this rare moment of relaxation he has before a game.

The mushroom risotto is lovely, steaming and seasoned to perfection, with just the right amount of white wine to sour Kiyoomi’s tongue. Satisfied, he places the food cart with his dishes right outside his door and calls the front desk to have someone pick it up.

Afterwards, he wipes the green cream from his face and settles down on his bed. Wrapped in his bathrobe and buried in soft blankets, he watches a documentary on pottery making and takes a nap.  
  


**  
  


Later that evening, the team heads to the Kamei Arena for scouting. Having played in so many tournaments before, Kiyoomi is used to the festiveness of opening games, but this… this is something Kiyoomi had never experienced in any of the tournaments he played before, even professional ones.

The venue is already decorated with the motifs of MSBY and the Adlers. Black and gold and white and purple triangular flags cross the main hallway ceiling, leading to the main court. There, right next to the Japanese flag, huge posters of the reigning champions of three years hang from the ceiling. From the VIP seating area, cardboard stands of Kiyoomi and his teammates stare up at them in defiance.

“Look, Tsum Tsum! They made an extra one of you!” Bokuto points at the cardboard stand of their furry mascot, Jackasuke, sitting at the end of the line and yells. This is the cue the team needed to reclaim their usual shenanigans, shouting and jumping around like excited kids.

It’s all too much for Kiyoomi, who just stands back silently while looking around in awe. Excitement, anticipation, and thirst for victory start to burgeon and swirl around his stomach; they’re rapid, all-consuming, and ever expanding, and their combined pressure lifts his heart up to his ears where it thumps to the rhythm of a thousand war drums.

Fully engrossed, Kiyoomi is perfectly able to hear the beat that his heart skips when his eyes fall upon Atsumu, smiling carefree and seemingly in a much better mood than this morning.

Kiyoomi inhales deeply then takes a step towards him.

“We should practice the pipe for a bit since we’re here,” he suggests.

Atsumu’s smile slowly fades as he turns around to look at Kiyoomi. His face twists awkwardly, as if he had mistaken a slice of lemon for a chocolate bar and had taken an unfortunate bite. Slowly and then all at once, the frantic warmth inside Kiyoomi’s chest dies out when Atsumu looks away.

“Not now, Omi,” he says while scratching the back of his head. “I have to–uh, to do setter stuff… With Bokkun. Now.”

Setter stuff. With Bokuto. Of course.

A short, subtle laugh escapes Kiyoomi.

He doesn’t know why he expected Atsumu to be over his major fuck up already when Kiyoomi knows that he’s prone to holding grudges.

 _I just need to leave him alone for a while_ , Kiyoomi tells himself, suppressing a frown. _It should all be fine by tomorrow_.

For the rest of their time in the Kamei Arena, Kiyoomi listens to Atsumu compliment his other spikers’ kills as Kiyoomi bounces the ball from one wall to another with the sheer prowess of his wrists.  
  


**  
  


The next day, Adriah approaches Kiyoomi at the hotel’s restaurant during lunchtime. He has this weird, compassionate look on his face that Kiyoomi doesn’t like to be given, and the fact he doesn’t say anything for a while creeps Kiyoomi out.

“What.”

“I just wanted to check if you’re all right for today. I saw you keeping it light yesterday at the arena, but Coach didn’t say anything about an injury so I figured I should just ask you.”

“I wasn’t ‘keeping it light’, I was working on the spin,” Kiyoomi explains, watching his tone. “It’s good to take time to calibrate it sometimes.”

“Same for new combos, no? Are you planning to debut the new pipe attack today?”

Kiyoomi shrugs, and his eyes drop down to look at his salad. “That’s up to Miya.”

“Oh.”

Adriah instantly turns to look at Atsumu, who is all the way on the other side of the restaurant. The setter is sitting with Foster, who wanted to go over some new strategies. “Well, I guess you’re right. But knowing him, I don’t think he’ll want to keep it as a secret weapon for too long,” Adriah comments while smiling. Smiles are always wide and strangely shrewd on his face.

Kiyoomi answers him with a blank stare.

“Anyway, I’m going back to my room. Don’t be late today, Sakusa-kun!” he says, winking playfully as he leaves walking backwards.

Rolling his eyes, Kiyoomi takes a mouthful of his salad so that he doesn’t have to reply.

He made sure to turn on three sets of alarms for the bus today. He wouldn’t risk undermining his chances of getting Atsumu’s tosses by pissing him off right before a match.

 _Or pissing him off even more_ , his mind adds during the ride to the arena. For the whole trip, Atsumu doesn’t do so much as look at Kiyoomi; instead, he’s absorbed in a conversation with Hinata about his beach volleyball career. No one seemed to have minded Kiyoomi’s mistake as much, and the rest quickly went back to treating him normally, but somehow his mistake seems to be a big deal to Atsumu.

Kiyoomi can't help but regret liking such a petty and volatile man.

Upon their arrival in the Arena, the team gathers in the locker rooms where the coach confirms the starting line-up and gives them a motivational speech to kick off the season before he leaves to meet with the referees.

“Tsum-tsum, you doing good today?” Bokuto shouts like he just ran into Atsumu in the middle of a crowd. “Me, I’m doin’ great!” he provides without giving Atsumu the chance to reply. Kiyoomi doesn’t look back, but it seems like Atsumu is throwing a tantrum about the Jackasuke incident at the fan meeting some weeks ago. Endearment sneaks its way to Kiyoomi’s heart when he recalls how Atsumu looked when he surprised everyone wearing the mascot suit.

“Come on, Atsumu. Get over it already, it’s been ages!” Inunaki scolds.

“He’s right, Atsumu-kun. Cheer up!” Adriah claps his hands. “Aren’t you excited to debut that pipe attack against Romero today? That’s his _brand_ , you know.”

Unconsciously and a little too abruptly, Kiyoomi’s gaze shoots back to Atsumu. In his eyes staring ahead, Kiyoomi sees a fire lighting up instantly. So _that_ was the trump card Adriah had been smiling about, before. _Genius move_ , he compliments the middle blocker mentally. Kiyoomi couldn’t have done it better himself.

Atsumu’s determined eyes meet his, and they both nod confidently at each other.

 _This is it_.  
  


**  
  


Kiyoomi finds his teammates in a stare-off against the Adlers outside of the locker room.

He meets Wakatoshi’s gaze, and in that moment, all the resolve that has been building up inside of him overflows. _This is it, this is it,_ his mind replays, as Atsumu yells playfully at Kiyoomi to stay away.

Steadfast, Kiyoomi walks up to Wakatoshi and declares: “this time, we’re coming out on top.” Despite his statement, Wakatoshi remains unwavering, but it doesn’t matter. Kiyoomi can feel every one of these words in his bones; there’s no way that they’re going to lose.

When Hoshiumi, the loud pipsqueak, dares to defy the truth of his words, Kiyoomi blatantly tells him to shut up. It earns him one of Atsumu’s typical smartass quips—something related to sea urchins this time—to which Kiyoomi just squints and dismisses. He’s glad Atsumu is back to normal, but there’s no room for jokes right now. They need to focus on the win, and Atsumu can’t do it if he’s down on his knees making a fool of himself in front of a bathroom.

“Yer all killing me!” Atsumu shouts repeatedly.

Kiyoomi stops by the setter and watches him flinch. “Get back on your feet, Miya. We have a game to win.”

As if his dramatic act never happened, Atsumu rises to his full height, smiling confidently at the opponents, and then at Kiyoomi. The air of certainty he exudes has Kiyoomi holding his breath.

“You’re right, Omi. Let’s go kick their ass.”

The opposing players exchange their final vows of victory, and then the group disbands. Kiyoomi and Atsumu walk side by side to the court’s entrance where they meet the children who will be escorting them to the court.

Both teams play to the best of their potential in each rally of the match. MSBY wins the first set with a 5 point difference, but the Adlers take the second one as soon as they have the chance.

Set point of set three is when Atsumu decides to use the new pipe. Before the whistle blows to allow Sokolov’s serve, he extends his middle finger behind his back, signaling for Kiyoomi to jump in first tempo. Kiyoomi blows a raspberry at the stupid hand sign Atsumu chose. Hopefully the TV broadcast won’t give it any close-ups.

Inunaki nails the overhand receive of the tricky jump floater, sending an A pass right above Atsumu’s head. Careful not to step on the line, Kiyoomi runs up and jumps, like he has so many times before in a casual scenario. The cheers around him go silent as the ball enters his field of view. It’s perfect, without the telltale spin of a double touch foul, and it reaches the apex of the set’s trajectory at the same second Kiyoomi’s palm comes down to make contact with the leather.

There’s a brief moment wherein Kiyoomi and Atsumu share a smirk before Ushijima manages to dig the spike in the back of the Adlers’ court. They get back in defensive position, watching Romero hustle to dig the ball that flew all the way to the opposite end of his team’s court. Hoshiumi is the last Adler to touch the ball before it’s back in the Jackals’ possession. The rally is long, but Hinata’s hand ends it—his left hand, at that—in an incredible second touch wherein he feigns a setting stance but spins around in the air to spike at the very last second.

This closes the set, but the momentum that each team built throughout the rally carries through to the fourth set, where both teams stay neck and neck the whole time, occasionally swapping the lead. It ends eventually at 26-24 for MSBY, the winning point adding up to Bokuto’s stats.

Atsumu is the one to approach Kiyoomi first after the match ended. “Talk about a con man vibe,” he jokes about Kuroo Tetsurou, who’s on the sidelines talking to Hinata. Kiyoomi knows him from his high school years.

Since the small gathering in the bathroom before the game, Atsumu has been acting as usual around Kiyoomi: they competed over service aces during the match, goaded each other in between plays, finally debuted the new combo they had been working on. But even so, Kiyoomi can’t help but feel relieved to know that it wasn’t just an act for the sake of the team that would end with a scowl as soon as the final whistle blew. Having Atsumu distant in the last two days terrified him a little bit, maybe, and he won’t be taking for granted the lighthearted moments they share after having experienced that.

“You never know what he hides in that rooster hair of his.” He mocks Kuroo too, making Atsumu laugh. “Guess I screwed up our pipe attack debut, huh. Sorry about that,” he follows.

“Don’t mind it, Omi-kun. I’d be pissed if you were slacking off on me, but it just so happened that Ushiwaka was there to get it.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t really know what to say to that, so he just looks at him instead. In Atsumu’s profile he sees serenity, that wholesome calm he experiences after a job well done.

“I thought you were great today.” The words come out of his mouth before he notices, but he doesn’t budge. There’s no reason to when all he’s saying is the truth. “The set for the pipe was perfect. I really wish I’d nailed it.”

“You know... That’s what matters to me in the end,” Atsumu’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, and he breathes out a small, almost imperceptible laugh.  
  


**  
  


It’s during the bus ride back to their hotel when the euphoria of starting the season with a win settles in.

Usually, Bokuto’s loud screaming and Hinata’s jumping around would throw Kiyoomi off, but today he feels like joining them. Maybe not as fiercely, but he allows himself to speak proudly of himself, to comment on his teammates’ successful plays, to brag about the fact he beat Wakatoshi in a professional competition.

“That no-look 180-degree spike was so cool, Bokuto-san!” Hinata’s eyes shine with admiration, and his voice is higher than Kiyoomi’s has ever heard. “Yes!” He celebrates when Bokuto tells him he will teach it to him.

“It’s a reward for being such a great decoy there at match point!” Bokuto explains while ruffling his hair.

Inunaki kneels at his seat behind Hinata, joining Bokuto in messing with his hair. “You were insane today, Hinata! That left-hand spike… whew! Hoshiumi didn’t even know how to react.”

“It was a great way to close the set,” Captain Meian says as greeting.

“Are we going to talk about the set before that, though?” Adriah is already laughing when he mentions the way Atsumu had to dive for a ball and ended up hitting his back on one of the ads standing in the sidelines.

“He really fell like a bag of shit against that sign,” Kiyoomi states, making the entire team laugh.

“’Yer a bag of shit, Omi-kun! Besides y’all should thank me for it! If I hadn’t saved it we wouldn’t have won the third set!”

The laughter stops for a second, coming back at full speed when Bokuto throws himself forward in a parody of Atsumu’s ridiculous save.

Next to Inunaki, Atsumu kneels on his seat as well, lunging forward to slap Bokuto’s back for the imitation. From his seat, Kiyoomi can see how his shirt hikes up his torso, revealing his lower abs. Just a tiny bit of skin, enough to hold Kiyoomi’s gaze for longer than what is acceptable between professionals.

There was a moment at the end of the fourth set where Hoshiumi’s serve hit the top of the net and toppled to MSBY’s court. Adriah’s quick reflexes managed to keep the ball from hitting the ground, but it was a low lift. Regardless, Atsumu managed to pull off a Hail Mary pipe with Hinata after setting the ball to perfection as he folded his legs underneath himself and dropped low on his heels just to get it. When Kiyoomi turns around to avoid looking at Atsumu’s exposed v-line, he does _not_ think about the way his thighs were bulging at that moment, thick and strong and sinfully covered in sweat.

He definitely doesn’t think about it either when he’s back at the hotel, lying on his comfortable bed with a hand buried in his pants.

When he gets up, he heads straight to the shower, where he spends the next fifteen minutes fingering his ass. He refuses to collapse in a bathroom that’s not his own, though, so he dries himself up, skips his skincare routine, and takes the play to the bed once again.

During his camboy career, there has been a handful of other content creators that Kiyoomi had come across and ended up liking enough to subscribe to. It’s not always that he watches live streams like his own, but if he remembers correctly he has a mutual that goes on cam every Saturday that would cater to his very specific visual needs of the night: big hands, nice outlined thighs, bubble butt, short blonde hair...

He lies on his stomach and puts his phone on the nightstand. A blue light flashes right by the front camera, signaling an OnlyFans notification. Kiyoomi checks the text on the lock screen with an interested eyebrow cocked up.  
  


OnlyFans  
setballsonfire13 sent you a picture.

OnlyFans

setballsonfire13: figured I should pay you back :p  
  


Kiyoomi’s fingers tap his PIN code, clumsy with curiosity. Then they go stiff, clutching to the phone like a lifeline. A loud gasp leaves his lips so unexpectedly that he startles himself.

There’s no text before the picture, no reaction to the one Kiyoomi had sent, no apologies for taking two days to reply, nothing. Just a cropped and darkened picture of a man standing in front of a mirror, holding the phone in front of his well-defined chest. The arm that’s bent in front of him looks soft at the same time it is muscular; the thought of squeezing it leisurely crosses Kiyoomi’s mind. His hips are a bit tilted to the right, showing the curve of his narrow waist against the dim lights. Down the subtle plateaus of his six-pack, a towel hangs around his hips, so low it discloses the swell of his ass and base of his cock, hairless and generous in girth.

Now, Kiyoomi understands the delay in answering. Countless exclamations come to his mind, born from a multitude of feelings that manifest far away from his heart, but on second thought none of them make enough sense to be typed out and sent to a stranger. He takes another look at the picture, trying to find a detail or an aspect that he can make a courteous comment about. His mouth waters as he analyses the pic in detail, drinking in the glorious image of the one vein jutting out of his skin next to crotch and the beautiful dark nipples on his chest.

In all honesty, courteous is the last thing Kiyoomi would want to be to this man.

“W”. Kiyoomi types by mistake and immediately notices the green sign at the corner of the direct messages screen. His heartbeat speeds up. “Fuck.”

What if the dude on the other end saw that he was typing? Now, he has no choice but to reply. But _how_? Aside from a keyboard smash and some drooling emojis, he really doesn’t know.

He stares at the W sitting alone on his screen.  
  


twinkiyo | 8:33pm

Woah

Thanks, I appreciate it  
  


He looks at the message bubbles and realizes his words don’t sound as good as they did in his head, so he adds a yellow smirking emoji for good measure. The bubble on the other side of the screen pops up before he can register that the user is even typing.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 8:33pm

glad you do ;)  
no stream today?

twinkiyo | 8:34pm

Just thursdays

setballsonfire13 | 8:34pm

shame

i was getting ready to watch you play with your ass  
  


Kiyoomi sees where this is going.

He also knows he probably shouldn’t get involved in it.

But he probably shouldn’t have sent that first picture, and he probably shouldn’t have started streaming his sexual plays in the first place.

But, well. He just defeated his sworn rival in a professional game, and then jerked off to his teammate-slash-crush in a hotel room like a loser. So fuck it. There’s nothing really stopping him now, is there?

He starts cautiously anyway, just in case.  
  


twinkiyo | 8:36pm

Oh, really? :o

How so?  
  


With no indication that setballsonfire13 is typing on the other end, Kiyoomi scrolls up to look at the picture again. The guy seems to be tall, based on the shadows of the furniture in the room. His build is similar to Kiyoomi’s, firm and strong but not ripped, with muscles that are cushioned to the touch.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 8:37pm

im hard

thinking about ur tits in that cute lingerie  
  


The straightforwardness takes Kiyoomi aback for a second, but he appreciates it. Better to move fast so he doesn’t have time to regret his decisions.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 8:37pm

u sounded so nice like that

just from that dildo

been thinking about ur moans all day  
  


Between his legs, Kiyoomi’s cock gets harder by the message. He figures he should reply, but he’s amused and turned on by how shameless the user on the other end seems to be already, despite not having received any replies of the same caliber yet. But it’s not like he wants to leave him hanging, really—if anything he might be a tad too interested in egging him on, so he leans back against his pillows, steadies the phone in one hand and grabs his cock with the free one.

A couple of pumps and Kiyoomi’s mind is occupied with the picture. Full of that small glimpse of a dick, wondering how far down it lengthens behind the towel, if it is indeed as fat as it seemed like.  
  


twinkiyo | 8:39pm

I like it when they’re thick

setballsonfire13 | 8:40pm

i noticed haha

ur greedy little ass kept twitching all pretty around it  
  


Just like that, setballsonfire13’s words send him back to the day of his stream. Precome starts beading at the slit of his cock when he recalls the amazing orgasm he had then. His mind had slipped away from his control and played him into fantasizing about something more than just a toy. Today, he deliberately lets his imagination wander.  
  


twinkiyo | 8:41pm

Haha

It felt so good

But nothing’s better than gaping from a real cock

setballsonfire13 | 8:44pm

yeah

i bet u like it rough too dont u?

when they pin you to the bed and fuck you like a slut  
  


The long strokes to his length get faster, lubed by the precome dribbling down the length of his cock. He remembers the last time he was properly railed, which was back when he was still in university. From behind, by some guy he picked up in a bar and never saw again. He had fucked Kiyoomi so good he still jerks off to the memory every now and then.

He remembers that night instantly, but instead of an accurate memory of the chubby figure from that night, this time the one taking Kiyoomi is the stranger from the picture. Lightly tanned skin stretches over firm muscles that move smoothly when the man thrusts forward ruthlessly. Kiyoomi feels his asshole throb, craving for the same type of attention.  
  


twinkyio | 8:47pm

I love it

Bend me in half, toss me around, as long as my ass gets wrecked i'll moan real good

setballsonfire13 | 8:48pm

easy

i like it

love to fuck twinks like u so hard they crumble on my cock

id fuck u just like that

till u r so out of it u can only beg for more  
  


Shit, Kiyoomi would love that. He rolls and pushes his ass back on the bed, fucking into his fist. He’s beyond turned on by this cheap dirty talk and the short scene that keeps replaying in his head of himself on all fours, stuffed by a cock he can only imagine pressing inside of him.  
  


twinkiyo | 8:50pm

Bet you could make me come untouched on your fat cock

setballsonfire13 | 8:52pm

no doubt

ur ass wouldnt stand a chance

id turn u into a little bitch so fast

loud and needy and asking me to breed u  
  


The hand stroking his cock gives the head a twist that makes Kiyoomi quiver. Just for the sake of being cautious, Kiyoomi never brings toys to work trips, which right now he deeply regrets. Fingering himself while trying to type with just one hand would definitely prove to be an ordeal, and the hassle is not worth spoiling the mood over. But he needs to get something in him. Right now.

As his inner debate takes place, the messages keep coming.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 8:54pm

id stretch you and then fuck u so deep ud cry

then id cum all over those pink panties of urs

make you remember such a great fuck everytime u wear it again  
  


And that does it for Kiyoomi.

Placing his phone on a pillow next to him, he drops his legs open onto the mattress. The influx of messages continues, but he doesn’t read them. Hurriedly, he taps the voice message button, then he raises his hips to make way for the hand reaching behind him. Tiny moans become louder and deeper when two fingers penetrate him. Thinking of what setballsonfire13 must be typing in the chat only makes him hornier.

_You sound so sexy.  
_

_I wanna hear you moan like a bitch in heat._

_Did my cock make you make you scream?_

Kiyoomi must be delirious, jerking off and fingering himself in a hotel room after a match, recording the sounds of his orgasm exclusively for a stranger just because of a thirst trap photo that caught him in a good mood. It’s deranged, laughable, and utterly delicious.

Rocking to the side, Kiyoomi flips into his stomach and gets on his knees, taking his mouth closer to the phone. Like this, the open-mouthed moans will probably sound breathy in audio form, so he presses his lips and breathes through his nose to control it, unable to let go of the quality of even an impromptu material like this. His hips roll back on his scissored fingers, the slide of his hand around himself slows down.

The fingertips of his thumb and index finger close into a ring around the base of cock, while the other three arc around his balls to massage them. Proofs of Kiyoomi’s pleasure are captured instantly by the device on the pillow, adding up seconds to the minutes of the ongoing recording. setballsonfire13 stopped typing, but the user is still online, according to the status the app shows Kiyoomi.

He has an audience of one tonight, which means he can’t afford to disappoint.

He adds texture to the pressure inside him by crossing his fingers, and he twists his wrist as much as possible while prodding into his hole. Climax is close; Kiyoomi can feel it blooming shyly beneath his stomach, spreading throughout his legs and chest. A couple more nudges and takes over his wits entirely, and he’s left trembling against the sheets, gasping into the microphone.

His heavy breathing takes up a few seconds of the recording before he can slide his fingers out of himself and press send with a clean pinky.

The app sells setballsonfire13 out the second he plays the audio. A single emoji follows it, uncharacteristic to the confident attitude the user had given off thus far: a round, wide-eyed and blushing little yellow face that elicits an honest laugh in Kiyoomi. It seems fair to cherish this guy's small change of heart after he had made a mess out of Kiyoomi with just some texts.

Rolling over onto his back, he makes a face at the sticky sheets clinging to his stomach. He’ll need to come up with one hell of an excuse for that big stain later, or maybe even wash it himself, but that’s a problem for future Kiyoomi. Because present Kiyoomi has a beaming lightbulb hovering over his head, and he’s not known for letting his ideas go unexecuted so easily.

He wipes the cum off his hand with a wipe from the box he left on the nightstand, disposes of it, and with a new one he holds his phone up, camera app open. The white sheets crumple unevenly where Kiyoomi lied orgasming just now. There are two indents on the mattress disclosing where his knees stood, and a telltale darker spot beyond them where his release is drying out.

It’s filthy.

And it looks stellar in a picture.

He sends it with no caption, because he knows it will take none for setballsonfire13 to understand the context.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 9:07pm

fuck

shit fuck

were u cumming from ur ass in that audio

god u sound so sexy

twinkiyo | 09:07pm

Yeah I was fingering myself

Two fingers

And jerking off at your pic

Kept thinking it was you fucking me, filling me with cum

setballsonfire13 | 09:07pm

fuck

youre gonna make me cum

twinkiyo | 09:08pm

Yes

Come on

Give it to me  
  


setballsonfire13 starts typing, then stops. Does it once more, stops again. In any other setting, Kiyoomi would have been annoyed. But now he thinks about the spasming hand behind the screen, holding the phone tight while its counterpart fondles the cock in its palm. He giggles.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 09:08pm

[video attachment]

fuck

u made me cum so good babe  
  


The same hand Kiyoomi just imagined shows up in a thumbnail on the left-hand corner of his screen. Four seconds turn into eight and then twelve as Kiyoomi watches come dribble down the thick fingers featured in the short video. He couldn’t be more spent, but his body still manages to shiver at the sight. He wants those fingers just like that: nasty and covered in come, he wants them in his mouth.  
  


twinkiyo | 09:10pm

If that’s the case, then let me taste it

setballsonfire13 | 9:11pm

u keep that up and ill cum again

twinkiyo | 9:11pm

Oh I didn’t peg you as someone this sensitive

setballsonfire13 | 9:11pm

it’s cause u were too busy pegging urself

twinkiyo | 9:12pm

Hahahaha

I guess you’re right

Too bad I had to do it alone :(

setballsonfire13 | 9:13pm

ikr

truly a shame

i wouldnt let a single twink go unfucked if i could

twinkiyo | 9:14pm

Whore

setballsonfire13 | 9:14pm

oh look who’s talking

twinkiyo | 9:14pm

And what about it?

setballsonfire13 | 9:15pm

nothing

srsly

shit im sorry

twinkiyo | 9:15pm

LOL It’s fine, I don’t mind

That’s literally it and idc

Aren’t we supposed to do what we like for a living

setballsonfire13 | 9:17pm

true

i wholeheartedly agree and support  
  


The message that follows contains several smirking faces and flying banknote emojis. _This guy is funny_ , Kiyoomi thinks, smiling as he taps his reply to excuse himself to go take a quick shower.

The bedding gets replaced by another set he finds in a drawer by the TV. He makes a mental note to wash the soiled sheets as soon as he wakes up next morning. Lying down on the freshly made bed, Kiyoomi feels a little bit on top of the world. He won a match, he broke the ice between him and Atsumu, he came.

It’s a good day.

***********

The sun shines brightly the next morning.

There’s a pleasant moment of laziness in which he just lies sprawled on the cool sheets and enjoys the comfortable embrace of the blankets wrapped around him. Staying tucked in until late in the morning sounds like a perfect way to spend the afterglow of victory, but with a monstrous growl, his stomach begs to differ.

Reluctantly, he crawls out of bed and into a black tracksuit, and he then heads down for breakfast.

The hotel’s restaurant is quiet except for the occasional clang of cutlery coming from a table by the windows, where Atsumu sits alone watching something on his phone. It’s probably yesterday’s game, by the way his eyes don’t move away from the screen even when Kiyoomi puts down his fruit salad bowl on the table and sits in front of him.

“Good morning,” he says in greeting. His morning voice is still raspy; it makes him a little embarrassed. He clears his throat, and Atsumu finally looks up. “What are you watching?”

“Hey Omi! It’s just some of Tobio-kun’s plays from yesterday.” Atsumu’s face and tone seem bitter, but there’s a hint of awe hidden there as well. It’s amusing to Kiyoomi how Atsumu can express so much with just a sentence when he himself can barely speak this early in the morning. “I’m still impressed at how much he changed since our high school years.”

“So now you're scared of the monster you created?”

“Wait. What do you mean, me?!”

“If I remember correctly, you were the one pestering him for being a goody-two-shoes in that training camp.”

“Oh, come on, Omi! I was just telling the truth and you know it. I didn’t know he’d go ahead and turn all cheeky on me because of that.”

Kiyoomi gives him an eyeroll. “Of course you knew. You’re always trying to start things when you open your mouth.”

Atsumu looks at him, his mouth hanging open in confusion and eyebrows knitting close. “Why am I being called out like this at 8 am? For fuck’s sake, we won, ok? So cut it,” he blurts out, cranky.

Kiyoomi laughs at the way he huffs throughout the rest of the meal like an irritable old man. He must have it bad— _really_ bad—if even Atsumu’s shitty attitude strikes him as the most authentic and adorable thing in the world.

He’s still smiling when he gets back to his room, where he packs his bag and watches the news until the team leaves for the airport.

The dirty sheets he’d thrown on top of the chair in the corner are gone—probably taken by room service when he was out—but he’s in too good of a mood to care. His hand reaches for his phone in his pocket, triggered by the memory of last night’s events, and he scrolls past all of the recent notifications to tap at the oldest one.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 10:02pm

u must have gone to bed

gn!  
  


They kept talking for some time after setballsonfire13 sent his video, mostly bickering and joking around about his talent for thirst traps until Kiyoomi fell asleep. It was fun talking to him then, and it felt rude to leave him on read again now.  
  


November 12

twinkiyo | 08:46am

Sorry about that

I was really tired from my daytime job haha  
  


The grey check mark on the corner turns blue right away.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 08:46am

all good

hope u had a good chance to rest

twinkiyo | 08:47am

I did, thanks :)

setballsonfire13 | 08:47am

it’s always the best sleep after nutting

twinkiyo | 08:48am

.

It’s only 9am and you’re already like this……………

But yes agreed

setballsonfire13 | 08:50am

LMAO

ok then prude

if thats the case then ill text u again at night  
  


Kiyoomi considers it. The wisest decision would likely be to leave it as a joke, to avoid making a habit out of talking to this person. But the truth is that it had been harmless as much as it had been fun, and Kiyoomi trusts himself to stop in case the situation escalates to something that could jeopardize him.

Also, _not having someone to sext every now and then would probably be a red mark on any respectable camboy’s record, right?  
  
_

twinkiyo | 08:50am

Hahaha I’ll look forward to it ;)  
  


Kiyoomi is already back in his place in Osaka when the ping from setballsonfire13 comes within half an hour of sunset.

He’s lying on the couch the next day when he finds a dirty meme on twitter and forwards it to him.

He’s on his way back home from practice two weeks later when he receives the second nude out of countless to come.

***********

November 30

twinkiyo | 10:34pm

This video is a mess LOL

But damn

Such a fine cock

setballsonfire13 | 10:35pm

HEY filming myself jerking off is hard ok

twinkiyo | 10:35pm

True

That’s why I just do it live

setballsonfire13 | 10:36pm

HAHAHA should i try it then

twinkiyo | 10:36pm

Please don’t embarrass yourself online

setballsonfire13 | 10:37pm

u seen me doing it enough times already

so what do u say to some exclusive live embarrassing

just for u

twinkiyo | 10:38pm

What?  
Are you serious???

setballsonfire13 | 10:38pm

sure why not

we both turn on cams

no face since ur all careful with your identity

no talking just typing

still would like to hear u moan tho  
  


Kiyoomi gawks at his phone as if setballsonfire13 could see him. By now, it’s a known fact that this guy is a shameless perv with no filter whatsoever, but such a proposal still catches Kiyoomi completely off guard.

It’s crazy and reckless and stupid and absolutely tempting.

For the entire time they’ve been texting each other, setballsonfire13 never seemed interested in harming Kiyoomi. They developed this pleasant dynamic where they banter and make fun of each other, but always in a playful manner that never crosses any lines they make sure to establish. It’s comforting and familiar, and it makes Kiyoomi trust him enough to consider his idea.

But still, with just one person that he trusts as an audience, Kiyoomi fears that he might get too comfortable and therefore sloppy. Any consequent slip-ups could potentially be fatal to him; setballsonfire13 is still an anonymous stranger, after all.

The cursor blinks on his screen as he weighs the pros and cons of the proposition.

 _Well, I just have to be sure not to slack off_ , he thinks to himself. _And that’s not really different from any of my streams, is it?  
  
_

twinkiyo | 10:42pm

You know what, sounds cool

Does Sunday night work for you?

setballsonfire13 | 10:43pm

perfectly

***********

Two days later—on Sunday—MSBY has morning practice.

This week had been the third round of the season, and the Jackals had played and lost to the Rockets at home, three sets to one. Coach Foster gave them Saturday off as usual, but due to the great number of mistakes the team committed during the game, he saw it fit to call for an extra session.

“We start with serving and receiving drills. Keep the serves strong but in bounds, please. We can’t keep handing over points on silver platters to our opponents like we did Friday. And receivers, make sure the bump goes straight to the setter, or at the least high at the center of the court.”

While Kiyoomi has no issues with either, he practices just as he’s told to. His serves are sharp as ever, crossing the court with impressive speed without sacrificing the spin. The receives fly precisely to Atsumu's raised palms, earning him a couple of _nice receive_ s that sound more gratifying than usual to his ears.

If someone had told Kiyoomi some years ago that he would end up flustered at Atsumu's mid-game blabbering, he would probably feel repulsed. But now, much to past-Kiyoomi’s chagrin, he finds that he doesn't really mind. Hardships are no stranger to him—borderline pathologic squeamish tendencies throughout his childhood, late night cramming sessions during his college years, currently being an elite athlete; he’s well acquainted with hardships—but even if it seems like they can’t stand each other sometimes, he doesn’t _actually_ consider his relationship with Atsumu as difficult.

On the contrary, liking Atsumu comes easily to him, almost mindlessly, like taking a sniff of freshly-brewed coffee or stretching after a long night well-slept. Whenever Atsumu strolls into the gym humming a song that plays only in his head or waves goodbye by _Akabeko_ 's doorway every Thursday, Kiyoomi's heart feels light in his chest. It's a pure type of pleasure, one that makes the entire ordeal of dealing with existence seem uncomplicated and worth it.

It's often that Atsumu proves himself to be ruthless to a fault—running his mouth and demanding too much of others—but there's an authenticity in that demeanor that Kiyoomi admires, and even if it’s buried underneath layers of shit-eating confidence, scorn, and pride, all Kiyoomi can see in Atsumu is an unparalleled sense of love and devotion.

He feels silly, using big words like these to describe this infatuation, but it's not like Kiyoomi would know otherwise for sure. In high school, none of his fangirls' confessions had ever sparked anything in him, and though the athletic bodies of his teammates caught his eye more often than not, he never developed feelings for any of them. College had been almost the same, albeit the practical upgrade in how Kiyoomi came to appreciate his teammates' physiques: he found out he liked them better when pressed against his, preferably inside him, rather than just viewed from afar.

Maybe now it's finally time for him to experience crush, he supposes, and the thought causes him to chuckles to himself.

This _crush_ is why, after the day's practice, he agrees to join the guys on their trip to the ice cream shop on the next block.

"What?" Atsumu blinks dumbly at him when Kiyoomi accepts his invitation.

"What."

"Nothing. It's just that you never come with us, Omi-kun."

"On Thursdays. Today's Sunday, as far as I'm aware."

"Oh, yeah… I guess you're right." His eyes break contact with Kiyoomi’s as he looks down to the floor. He scratches his head, smiling sheepishly.

“Eh. If you don’t want me to go then just say so, Miya.” Kiyoomi clicks his tongue and snarls out of habit. There’s no bite to it, but it makes Atsumu’s eyes go wide with alarm all the same.

“No, no, no, Omi! That’s not what I meant!” He says, hands flailing in front of himself. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you there. I was just surprised you said yes, that’s all.”

Kiyoomi adjusts the mask on his face to cover the small upturn of his lips. He could be wrong, but maybe he isn’t the only one getting flustered over such small things.

“Shall we go, then?”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks directly into Atsumu’s eyes. In the honey-colored pools of his irises, Kiyoomi catches a glimmer that punches out all words and reactions out of him for a good second. It’s gone and comes back again as Atsumu blinks when he nods, so enticing and beautiful Kiyoomi doesn’t realize he gets left behind while daydreaming.

An elbow to his ribs puts an end to his reverie.

“Your gay is showing, dude,” Adriah mocks him and runs ahead to catch up with Bokuto, Hinata, and Atsumu.

Kiyoomi snorts because he’s whipped and hopeless and everything about this is absolutely ridiculous. He slings his bag over his shoulder and follows them.

The walk to the ice cream shop is uneventful and therefore lovely, with Hinata’s and Bokuto’s voices bringing the quiet streets to life, and Atsumu’s carefree smile beaming sunshine across their paths.

Kiyoomi orders a melon popsicle from the kind old man working the counter. It's fresh and sweet, and when Kiyoomi hears Atsumu humming with chocolate cream smeared all over his lips, he concludes that every Sunday afternoon should feel exactly like this.  
  


**  
  


He gets home before it's dark outside.

Nothing had been prepared for the night’s live session with setballsonfire13, but there’s still enough time. More than outfits or sex toys, what concerns Kiyoomi this time is the logistics. He needs to make sure his equipment is set in a way he can still type while keeping his face hidden as he fucks himself _and_ watches setballsonfire13.

He goes over his options during a thorough shower. _Fingering myself makes it too difficult to type. Same for riding, I guess. I could just jerk off but that’s a bit underwhelming for a special session… So... doggy_? _I can probably type like that. And also watch_.

One of his dildos has a suction cup strong enough to stick to the headboard of his bed. He’ll have to be on his knees and elbows in order to type, but he can still push back on the dildo in this position, so not only it should work, but it will definitely look even sexier than if he was just passively getting fucked. He makes a mental note to buy an automatic fucking machine next month, nonetheless, just because.

His phone beeps with a random notification. Seizing the opportunity, he gets it, checks his social media, orders dinner, and then shoots setballsonfire13 a text.  
  


twinkiyo | 6:14pm

8pm today?  
  


The message is not seen or replied to immediately, so Kiyoomi puts the phone aside and starts testing his filming plan. The webcam holder goes around the edge of the headboard so that it captures a good angle above the place he will be kneeling on. The black silicone stays firmly attached to the headboard, imposing despite its average length, right below where the camera hangs over the bed.

Kiyoomi turns the device on to make sure the framed image matches the one in his mind. He diligently makes the final adjustments and then finally gets on his knees between the laptop and the headboard.

Unceremoniously, he grinds his clothed ass up the dildo’s shaft. On the screen before him, the image shows his waist narrowing with the curve of his back, the swell of his ass bulging up, the black toy sliding in between them. It looks tantalizing, exactly how he pictured it: an amateur POV video recorded by someone fucking him from behind.

He’s sure this setting alone could drive setballsonfire13 crazy, but in the name of aesthetics, Kiyoomi must go one more extra mile.

His pants and underwear come off, and a harness around his waist and thighs replaces them. It’s an intricate work in faux leather, with multiple straps coming down to his hips in a criss-cross pattern. The rings where they meet rest over the seams of his crotch, and from there, single leather straps in each side connect to the double ones circling his thighs.

In the back, the skin pops around the borders of the rings in the middle, creating the illusion of a more substantial ass. Once Kiyoomi is down on all fours, the leather should press his flesh further, making his ass look even bigger.

He’s confident he put up a good scene for tonight, which makes him even more excited about the whole thing. He has been looking forward to these developments since the first time setballsonfire13 sent him a video, and he can’t wait to watch the reactions his best efforts elicit from his subscriber in real-time.

His cock grows hard with anticipation.

setballsonfire13’s confirmation arrives as Kiyoomi finishes his dinner, half an hour before their call.  
  


twinkiyo | 7:32pm

Cool

Ill get ready then (:

setballsonfire13 | 7:32pm

oh?

kinda wanna chat that hahah

wanna turn on the cam already?

twinkiyo | 7:33pm

No spoilers

setballsonfire13 | 7:35pm

[image attachment]

[this message has been deleted]

none for you either then

twinkiyo | 7:35pm

I’ve seen your dick before

setballsonfire13 | 7:36pm

hahah oh well

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
  


Kiyoomi isn’t in any way ready for the sight once it pops up on his screen.

For over a month he and setballsonfire13 have been spilling filth on text chat, exchanging thirst traps and semi-nudes, but nothing— _nothing_ —could have prepared Kiyoomi for this right now.

Meaning to surprise him with the leather gear, Kiyoomi started the video call while off-screen. He was supposed to languidly crawl into frame, catch the eye of setballsonfire13 with the little plaid skirt he chose for the night, and then steal the show entirely as he revealed the kinky harness underneath.

But instead, Kiyoomi stands by the bed unmoving, shocked. He’s completely awestruck, eyes wide open as they lock on the screen.

In high resolution, at what seems to be around six inches of height, stands the most tempting cock Kiyoomi has ever seen in his life. It’s long, thick, the head bulges behind a thin wall of skin that reveals only the slit at the tip and makes Kiyoomi's mouth water. It's curved up in a way that sends a shiver down Kiyoomi’s legs just from imagining it in him.

“Fuck,” Kiyoomi says out loud for lack of something better to occupy his mouth with.

He really, _really_ wants to suck that cock. He _needs_ to.

setballsonfire13 gasps audibly on the other end of the line. He starts typing, then stops, and repeats again, until he sends:  
  


setballsonfire13 | 08:03pm

haha dont get shy now

i know ur there

come out

twinkiyo | 08:04pm

Shit

Yeah, sorry

Coming

setballsonfire13 | 08:04pm

already?

twinkiyo-chan is so sensitive

twinkiyo | 08:05pm

please shut up  
  


Kiyoomi takes a deep breath. It's just a cock, he has seen plenty of those in this business. If he's going to be so affected by it, he might as well use the burning feeling taking over his own to his advantage.

He gets on the bed and sits on his ankles with his back to the camera. The skirt drapes over his ass and feet cutely for a couple of seconds before he leans forward and rolls his hips, using the movement of the pleated fabric to emphasize the curves of his waist and hips.

setballsonfire13 responds with movement as well. Loose strokes to his cock, slow and steady, pulling down the hood off the head so erotically it makes Kiyoomi dizzy.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 08:06pm

damn u look so cute in this

it's turning me on so much

twinkiyo | 08:07pm

You're such a perv

setballsonfire13 | 08:08pm

guess i am

cause well i really wanna peek under ur skirt rn

twinkiyo | 08:09pm

You're awful

But

I think you'll like what you'll see  
  


Kiyoomi looks for any change in setballsonfire13's body language, but he finds none. His abs are relaxed, leaning back in a chair or maybe against a wall. Kiyoomi can't see past his lower ribs at the moment, but his mind fills in the blanks with what he'd seen in the selfies: firm pecs framed by protruding collarbones, dark nipples in harmony with his tanned complexion.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 08:09pm

oh

do u have any surprises for me today twinkiyo-chan?

twinkiyo | 08:09pm

Perhaps

Won't you try to peek now?

setballsonfire13 | 08:10pm

id rather have u show me

twinkiyo | 08:10pm

Alright  
  


Message sent, Kiyoomi gets up on his knees. His hips spin around so the skirt falls back in place, his hands pat the pleats down against his body. He plays with the hem at both sides before sneaking up his fingers underneath it. Grabbing his cheeks, he lifts the skirt deliberately slowly, revealing the black straps around his thighs bit by bit.

It's hard to read the messages well from this angle, but knowing setballsonfire13, he’s likely swearing and sending emoji smashes right now. There's no helping it though, with his other hand busy with tugging furiously at his cock.

Holding the length of the skirt up around his waist with one hand, he sits back down again to read them, throwing his ass back with a little more purpose this time.  
  


twinkiyo | 08:14pm

You're leaking

So I take you liked it ;)

setballsonfire13 | 08:14pm

asdffghjk

ur so naughty twinkiyo-chan

and so hot

fuck u look so sexy  
  


He doesn't type a reply. Rather, in a gratuitous display of flexibility, Kiyoomi twists his torso around without moving his legs. His face isn't showing, but he winks anyway to stay in character as he waves to the camera. He makes a peace sign, brings his thumb and pointer fingers together to offer his lone viewer a heart. As he turns back ahead, his hand comes down to his right ass cheek in a slap that turns out to be harder than he meant it to be, and once he focuses the call again, he notices setballsonfire13's cock twitching in his fist.

It elicits the same reaction in Kiyoomi's asshole, who's eager to be filled properly since he prepped himself after dinner.

 _Patience, Kiyoomi. One thing at a time_.

Losing sight of setballsonfire13's sinful cock is regrettable, but it’s necessary to pull off his next planned move. Still on his knees, Kiyoomi drops his weight to the right and slides his hips sideways to a seated position. His left knee goes up as he spins gingerly on his ass, finishing up half a rotation to face the other direction where the camera now captures his front, legs spread open and cock hard against his stomach.

He rolls his hips lewdly on the mattress and fakes an innocent laugh. setballsonfire13 likes to hear the noises Kiyoomi makes, and he’s taken a special note of it. He'll moan like a whore today, until setballsonfire13's cock is coming all over himself on camera, just for him. His own cock twitches at the thought, burning up in desire. He palms it to soothe it down with tight strokes, whimpering with faux timidity.

His neck cranes in an uncomfortable angle to check the video call behind him. setballsonfire13 keeps jerking off at an incessant pace while sending gibberish in the chat. Looking at his own image, he ensures that his face will be kept off screen if he lies down, so he does, right on top of his arm. The hand behind his back reaches for his asshole, pressing on the surface of the entrance with flattened fingers.

When one finger enters him, he arches his back and turns up his moans. It's absolutely fake, but the arousal behind it is indeed genuine. setballonfire13 lets out groans close to his microphone. This, combined with the constant sounds of his hand slapping against his cock, gives Kiyoomi the sensory illusion of getting fucked for real, and he's enjoying it.

But fingers soon are too little when there's a dildo right there waiting for him.

He rolls off of his arm, removing his fingers and releasing his cock, and quickly scoots up to sit again. The dildo finally shows up on video when he pulls the webcam support to the side. setballsonfire13 must have already understood Kiyoomi's idea if his keyboard's nonstop click-clacks are anything to go by. And if he's _typing_ like this, Kiyoomi can't wait to see how excitedly he’s jerking himself off.

He takes his time coating the silicone toy in lube with both hands, sliding them from the hilt all the way up to the head, where he swirls his fist around before going back down. He would very much enjoy deepthroating the hell out of this dildo now, just to tease setballsonfire13 with the looks of it, but since keeping his identity hidden a requirement, he does his best to keep the simple handjob as provocative as possible.

It works, apparently, from what Kiyoomi can gather of setballsonfire13 long wall of messages.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 08:24pm

asgfhdadf

fucl

fuck

look so good from this angle

kinda wish i was that dildo rn

bet ur hands would feel amazing around me

fuck

arent u really good at this?

ur driving me crazy

wanna fuck ur hands then slap your face with my cock and fuck your mouth

i think you can take my whole cock in your mouth if u try,  
  


Kiyoomi reads as soon as he turns around. The hand pumping setballsonfire13’s cock has slowed down to a soothing pace, efficient enough to hold an erection but not to incite an orgasm. He knows Kiyoomi is not done with just a handjob, and he’s ready for it, which makes Kiyoomi anticipate the moment he comes undone even more. He wants to bear witness to the effects he has over setballsonfire13. He wants to get off on taking him to his climax with the sheer power of projection, without touching him even once.  
  


twinkiyo | 08:30pm

im sure i can

you must taste so good

i want to suck it whole

and then i want you in my ass fucking me really hard

setballsonfire13 | 08:31pm

will u moan for me while i fuck ur tight ass?

twinkiyo | 08:31pm

so so loud

your cock is so fat it could make me scream

setballsonfire13 | 08:32pm

then scream for me now

c'mon i wanna hear u  
  


On command, Kiyoomi goes on all fours. Repeating the movement from the recording test, he throws his ass up to slot the dildo between his cheeks and grinds back and forth. As he moves, the harness squeezes the muscles of his ass and thighs, marking his skin in pink. With one finger looping around the leather, he snaps one of the straps and whines lewdly at the impact.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 08:34pm

u like getting slapped?

want me to spank u?

ur so naughty under ur cute skirts and lingeries

I love it  
  


Kiyoomi spanks himself again, as hard as he can, and he whimpers, loud and needy.

Picking up hints about his audience’s specific kinks and using them for teasing is one of the things he will probably never get tired of. There’s an underlying sense of power in gaining control over someone’s desires by assuming the pleasing role. It’s always attracted Kiyoomi more than having the explicit upper hand, and to him, beholding the byproducts of his subtle influence is an endless source of satisfaction.  
  


twinkiyo | 08:35pm

i want your cock

give it to me

setballsonfire13 | 08:35pm

u want it that bad?

such a whore

ill fuck u like one  
  


Kiyoomi wails as he pushes back on the dildo. All at once, it enters him roughly despite the lube, moving past his prostate and lodging itself deep inside him. As soon as it bottoms out, setballsonfire13 resumes fucking into his hand tight and fast. Heat spreads from Kiyoomi's groin up his back, that arches down with the wave of pleasure emerging from his core.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 08:37pm

fuck

look at u taking it so well babe

twinkiyo | 08:38pm

it feels so good

so thick in my ass  
  


Immediately, Kiyoomi starts rolling his hips, rocking back and forth on his knees to emulate the thrusting movements of sex with the toy. It's like he envisioned, but _better_. The confidence setballsonfire13 is conducting himself with today turns Kiyoomi on more than he anticipated, and beyond the physical bliss, he's enjoying the _fantasy_ they created.  
  


twinkiyo | 08:46pm

fuck

right there

yes, don't stop,  
  


Kiyoomi types, moaning for him.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 08:48pm

u feel so so good

shit

so tight for me

look so pretty fucking urself on my cock,  
  


He answers, as if he, too, could feel the presence of Kiyoomi there with him, wherever that is.

Often overly analytical, Kiyoomi's mind is now entirely occupied with illogical ecstasy, the side effect of a made-up pleasure turned real by will alone.

Every inch of the dildo sends an electric shock to Kiyoomi's lungs as he sinks down on it. His eyelids begin to feel heavy, but he's not ready to lose sight of setballsonfire13's very hard cock. Not before it's twitching and leaking come.

So he slows down.  
  


twinkiyo | 08:56pm

im close

im so close

im gonna come  
  


setballsonfire13's hand instantly stutters, skipping a full stroke to keep up with the set pace.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 08:58pm

fuck me too

gonna come soon  
  


Kiyoomi can see his abs and thighs clenching at the corners of the screen. He's seems to be really close indeed.

Kiyoomi pushes back in slow, wide moves. Now's the time.  
  


twinkiyo | 09:00pm

i want you to come inside me  
  


setballsonfire13's cock jumps in his hand. His shy moans grow into gasped, sexy grunts.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 09:01pm

oh fuck

cumming  
  


As come spurts from the slit of his cock and into his hands and all over his stomach, Kiyoomi's eyes roll up in delight. setballsonfire13 jerks himself off through his own climax, groaning so obscenely Kiyoomi can’t help but be dragged over the edge along with him.

Bliss suddenly washes over him, preventing him from typing out a heads-up. He moans lustily to make up for it, dropping on his side dramatically to keep setballsonfire13 fawned over his figure. He flips over quickly, stomach up where the camera can pick it up directly, and lets out his release, whimpering.

Soon after, he can hear setballsonfire13 whispering behind him. The voice can hardly be heard, drowned in the consonance of cuss words and heavy breathing. Kiyoomi turns back to the laptop right in time to catch him coming again, still groaning, but now in more modest shots of a lesser white.  
  


twinkiyo | 09:04pm

god youre so sexy

setballsonfire13 | 09:05pm

haha thanks

im no god tho

twinkiyo | 09:05pm

dont ruin it  
  


The laughter on the other side silences as soon as it's out in the open, but not soon enough to not strike Kiyoomi right in the chest. The sound is familiar to Kiyoomi—though he can blame it on post-orgasmic foolishness, or the delusional nature of this entire relationship. A part of him feels like that laughter belongs somewhere—to _someone_ else. The absurdity of it all sort of makes him want to laugh, too.

To dismiss the thought, he focuses on the call. Good sex doesn’t end with just an orgasm, and Kiyoomi still has one idea he would like to apply before hanging up. With two fingers, he wipes the come off of his lower abs and reaches behind his back. Taking the come to his entrance, he pushes a finger in to insert it in himself, rolling and squirming.

Where the skin of his asscheek is reddened, he places another slap that elicits a genuine keen from his lips. He flutters his hole to force his release out in drops that run down his balls and pool on the sheets.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 09:07pm

damn ur really trying to drive me crazy, aren’t u?

Kiyoomi wiggles his sticky ass from side to side, makes a peace sign, then pulls down his skirt to cover the evidence of their activity and ends the call.

twinkiyo | 09:08pm

is it working?

setballsonfire13 | 09:08pm

yes

twinkiyo | 09:08pm

then yes (:

setballsonfire13 | 09:09pm

hahahah little shit

fuck that was awesome

WAIT IDK HOW TO REACT

am i supposed to say thank you

twinkiyo | 09:11pm

i said “dont ruin it.”

setballsonfire13 | 09:11pm

right

for real though, that was amazing

ur so hot all the time

keep me making me come harder and harder

i dont think i even knew i could come so hard

setballsonfire13 probably doesn’t understand how flattering this is to Kiyoomi, whose efforts were almost entirely focused on achieving _precisely_ that, besides the guaranteed personal satisfaction of masturbation.

twinkiyo | 09:12pm

hahahah

new ability unlocked

congrats,  
  


he jokes, because he’s afraid that admitting that he has been pushing buttons deliberately would break his spell over setballsonfire13, who’s wrapped so deliciously tight around his fingers.  
  


twinkiyo | 09:13pm

i had a great time too

honestly i didnt expect you to be this big

but it was a pleasant surprise

setballsonfire13 | 09:15pm

u were the one who said no spoilers!!! hahahah

the programmed schedule wasn’t affected by that tho i take?

which means

post-nut sleep now

twinkyo | 09:16pm

please go take a shower first

setballsonfire13 | 09:17pm

ofc!!!!  
  


Kiyoomi smiles and heads to the bathroom to follow his own advice. He takes care of tidying the room and his materials once he’s back. Under the fresh sheets, he wonders if there are any similarities between his and setballsonfire13’s bedtime routines. Crashing before 10pm seems foreign to a person with regular working hours—unlike the ones of an athlete’s—but Kiyoomi figures there’s no point in going over the endless list of possible explanations for setballsonfire13’s sleeping habits.

Instead, as his eyelids weigh down on his face, he revisits the terrific time he had had hours prior. If the night’s theme is fantasy, Kiyoomi now indulges in a more innocent one, where he falls asleep together with the one whose routine would match his easily, after a relaxing and lighthearted afternoon of ice creams and smiles.

***********

The week of practice starts off with motivation levels up high. Spurred on by the wish to assert their dominance after that loss in a preventable upset, the team is obviously ravenous for victory in this round.

The morning session goes by quickly, once again focused on keeping serves as aggressive as possible and within bounds. Atsumu's hybrid serve has grown even more dangerous as the season progressed, and there’s been an improvement in Adriah’s jump serve that’s also worth noting. Kiyoomi is confident that the last result won't be repeating itself soon.

"We must keep our morale up, guys! Make sure to come back here in the evening with the same attitude you had this morning," Coach Foster says before dismissing them for lunch.

As is usual on Mondays, Kiyoomi eats a banana and a protein bar and heads straight to the gym. At this time, there's hardly anyone in for weight training, which means Kiyoomi can take his time wiping the equipment before using it, and that he doesn't need to share any of it with anyone.

Carefully, he sprays down the two equipment he will be alternating on first. Mondays are shoulder and leg days— _so that these muscles essential to volleyball have time to rest before the games_ — according to the physical trainers. Kiyoomi finds the repetitions dull, but he does his best to do them like he was taught, aware of the importance that monotonous exercise has to his fragile joints.

The weather, the groceries, the plot of an anime he used to watch as a kid, his mind wanders as he pulls up and lifts the weights around, mindlessly following the routine that he’s been stuck with for the last months.

“You’re here early. Skipped lunch again, Omi-kun?”

The familiar accent has Kiyoomi looking up, startled by the sudden presence before him. Atsumu is smirking like usual, now fully changed into workout clothes: a loose tank top with unnecessary large arm holes that exhibit his muscular chest and shoulders and white split running shorts that could afford some extra inches of length for sure.

The revealing outfit makes Kiyoomi lose count of how many cable lateral raises he has left.

He clicks his tongue. “Mind your own business, Miya.”

“Hey, no need to snap at me, Omi. I was just concerned for you as my ace, you know. Can’t have you collapsing before big matches.” Atsumu doesn’t look at Kiyoomi when he speaks, busy placing 20 kg weight plates on the inclined leg press machine right beside Kiyoomi. The mirror in front of them doesn’t spare Kiyoomi a single detail of the way his back muscles slither as he grabs two circular weights at a time and lifts them with ease.

Of all the people in this team, Kiyoomi knows he is the least likely to ever collapse for lack of proper care to his body, and he’s sure Atsumu understands this too. Rolling his eyes, he answers calmly, “I had snacks before coming, I’ll grab lunch later when I'm done. It's approved by the trainers and nutritionists, so I can avoid the gym when it's packed."

"Oh, yeah. I guess that makes sense for you, after all. Do you mind if I stay?"

 _Absolutely not_ , Kiyoomi's mind is quick to provide as he watches Atsumu step into the machine and squat down to take a seat. His loose-fitting shorts drape down his thick thighs with how he positions his legs up in the air, feet fixed against the foot plate at the end of the apparatus.

"It's fine."

"Cool," Atsumu nods, forcing the weight trolley up to start his exercise.

Save for the noises of cast iron clashing against itself, the gym goes silent.

Like how he plays volleyball, Atsumu works out paying attention to every little detail, making sure that everything is done perfectly. Such care seeps through the form he assumes in each of his repetitions, and just like he would on court, he looks steadfast, unyielding, decisive.

Undeniably attractive.

The firm muscles of his thighs look irresistibly appetizing as they bend and reshape into sturdy vessels of lust. Kiyoomi would trade a lifetime to dip deep into them at any given moment in time.

Like right now, for instance. Right here.

He thinks about straddling Atsumu’s lap, getting his hands on his abs through the oversized holes of his tank top and feeling his strong thighs pressed against his ass cheeks. He could ride him right then and there at the club’s gym, licking into his cocky mouth, or hump those tiny white shorts while spilling filth into his ear until they’re both sweaty and their briefs are wet with their come and—

“Hey, Omi-kun. How come you’re starting your third set in a row with the same arm?” Atsumu snarks, entirely oblivious to any of the questionable thoughts in Kiyoomi’s mind. Shame weighs Kiyoomi’s head down, pulling his face away from the derisiveness seen in the reflection of Atsumu’s eyes.

“Shut up. I’m just… a little distracted today,” Kiyoomi manages to say despite the embarrassment he tries to hide.

“What’s on your mind?” Atsumu asks as he leans back into the equipment's head pad. His face is relaxed when he looks Kiyoomi in the eye in such a way that urges Kiyoomi to touch it, feel it with the tip of his nose, bite it.

“I—I wonder if I should call Komori soon...” His tone could mildly pass for nonchalant. “It’s been a while since I checked on him…”

Atsumu chuckles at what Kiyoomi took for a good excuse. “And why don’t you just do it in person then, next game?”

“Huh?”

“Our next match, Omi. We’re playing EJP in two days from now.”

“Oh—”

 _Fuck. I thought I had this_. So much for keeping his cool—Kiyoomi is officially done for. “I guess I forgot about that.”

“Coach just told us today that we‘ll be watching the highlights of their last match later,” Atsumu explains, without contempt, for once. “Airhead,” he adds, just to ruin it.

“Jerk,” Kiyoomi retorts before running away embarrassed to the dumbbell shelf in the opposite corner of the gym.

For the remainder of his routine, mortification burdens both his mind and his limbs, rendering every attempt of lifting into awkward displays of physical disorientation atypical to him.

Not an extra minute is wasted inside the gym once Kiyoomi is done with his last sets of overhead lifts. The shower is up and running as soon as he gets to the washing room, where he hopes the cool water will help with the heat spreading across his face and all over his groin, each one brought about by feelings conflicting with one another.

Unsurprisingly, the water doesn’t avail and neither does the fact that Atsumu walks in, bare-chested, right at the second Kiyoomi steps out of his stall.

His cock tingles behind his towel when he sees him; it doesn’t cease when he turns around to slip into his clothes; it doesn’t subside while he makes his way home.

 _Fuck. I might end up having to skip lunch after all_.  
  


**  
  


twinkiyo | 02:04pm

Hey

[image attachment]

I’m horny

setballsonfire13 | 02:09pm

woah good afternoon to you too

my day was good yes thanks for asking

hbu

twinkiyo | 02:11pm

Just came back from the gym

setballsonfire13 | 02:15pm

oh i see

and looking at all those huge muscular men made u like that, twinkiyo-chan?  
  


The ironic reality of the situation makes Kiyoomi laugh in the secrecy of his home. If setballsonfire13 knew that it had been just one guy, actually shorter and not significantly stronger than him, that had made him speed back to his place hiding an aching hard-on behind thin workout clothes, he would probably be disappointed, which isn’t what Kiyoomi would want him to feel at the moment. It seems that resorting to a little deception is Kiyoomi’s best chance to keep him interested.

He sends a couple of blushing emojis and stuffs a hand in his shorts to start fondling his erection. It’s already throbbing, restless after being neglected for so long. With how easily setballsonfire13’s words turn him on, he’s sure he can take care of it quickly, still on time to have his lunch without disrupting his entire diet.  
  


twinkiyo | 02:15pm

Yeah

I’d let all of them take me right there if they wanted to

All at the same time

setballsonfire13 | 02:16pm

:o

im sure they would have if u told them u were so desperate to get banged

im glad u decided to come to me tho

let the muscle heads do their lifting

im free for u rn ;)

quickie?

twinkiyo | 02:18pm

Wait

Do you want to call?

setballsonfire13 | 02:19pm

we can sext if u want

but im at home

arent you too?  
  


He _is_ home. Immensely horny, painfully hard, and undeniably home. Calling wasn’t in his initial plans, but now that it was brought up, he doubts he’d be able to get off without it. He’s got hours off before the evening practice starts, and his empty stomach still hasn’t started protesting.

Logically, there's no good reason to deny setballsonfire13’s suggestion.  
  


twinkiyo | 02:20pm

I am

Yeah, we can call

Give me five minutes

setballsonfire13 | 02:20pm

ok

lmk when ur ready~  
  


_Just five minutes_ , Kiyoomi begs his cock to wait as he runs to his room to turn his computer on. He types in his password and seizes the time his computer takes to start up to untangle the webcam wires from the rest of his equipment. He regrets not having the time to come up with an entire scene, but he trusts himself to keep a simple set-up hot enough. He places the camera on a small tripod on the floor at the center of the room, stops by the laptop halfway through his way to the closet, and logs in to OnlyFans. He then rummages his sex toy box for lube and for last night’s dildo, which he sticks to the floor across the camera with more force than necessary.

He can strip and prep his ass on call, so the last minute and a half prior are used for adjusting the camera’s reach.  
  


twinkiyo | 02:25pm

Ok, I’m ready

setballsonfire13 | 02:25pm

took you long enough

*call from setballsonfire13*

twinkiyo | 02:25pm

Exactly five minutes?!

Like I said?!

setballsonfire13 | 02:26pm

LMAO

JUST ANSWER THE CALL  
  


Before doing so, Kiyoomi rolls his chair to the opposite side of the room and places his laptop on the seat. Like this, he shouldn’t have trouble typing while he rides the dildo on the floor. He also wouldn’t have to take his eyes off of setballsonfire13’s image.

When he finally picks up, there’s a small gasp on the other end that Kiyoomi doesn’t understand the reason for given that he’s still fully dressed in his workout wear. At the end of the day, his gym clothes aren’t anything special. Maybe the setup impressed setballsonfire13 again, which would make sense since he’d gotten so affected by a similar one just the previous night. As long as it doesn’t get in the way of the orgasm he so desperately needs, Kiyoomi doesn’t really care about it.

setballsonfire13 is positioned on frame just like he was the day before, obviously not worried about repeating performances. It’s somehow relieving to Kiyoomi, knowing that there’s no standards for them to meet during their improvised meetings. That he can seize the moment and satisfy himself however and whenever he wants to when setballsonfire13 is involved.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 02:28pm

r u keeping those on?

c’mon show me this ass

twinkiyo | 02:28pm

Geez

And you go around calling _others_ desperate?  
  


No niceties are needed between them, there’s no need for protocol or formalities. All they have is the eagerness to fulfill their most human urges as soon as they emerge from their hideouts within. Immediately, they get down to it: setballsonfire13 curls a hand around himself, Kiyoomi loses his shorts and sneakers and then kneels down. Lube finds its way to Kiyoomi’s ass through deft fingers, hasty in their path to repeatedly hit their target deep inside.  
  


setballsonfire13 | 02:36pm

still loose from yesterday?

or are you always ready to take it no matter when?

twinkiyo | 02:38pm

draw your own conclusions

setballsonfire13 | 02:41pm

oh i think ur always ready

always needy

always screaming inside for someone to dick u out of ur mind

at work or with friends and family

ur just a little cockslut deep down, no matter who’s around am i right?  
  


_Yes_. His mind takes him back to the gym where he had been thirsting for his own teammate less than one hour prior, at their workplace. setballsonfire13’s words about him are true, perfectly accurate in their read of Kiyoomi’s depraved core—the one that craves to break through the shell of neurotic asepsis surrounding him and become tainted by all the fearful wonders the world offers to those who dare to brave it.

“Yes,” he says, sinking down on a cold replica of what he desires most, moaning as it enters him. He’d been entered before in other acts of rebellion; how he wishes to be entered by Atsumu now more than ever.

“Yes,” he says as he bounces up and back down, eager in his moves as though his avidity could summon the flesh and blood version of the object of lust beneath him.

“Yes. Yes,” he replies to the manifestation of a familiar voice that questions: “So you like it this much, huh?” when he rolls and pushes back onto the toy inside him.

“Fuck, you look so sexy fucking yourself like that. Are you thinking about my cock? Am I the one who’s making you feel this good?” The voice reverberates hot in Kiyoomi’s chest, groin, and mind, pulling him deeper into his earlier fantasy.

“Yes,” he repeats, indulging in thoughts of _Atsumu_ , _Atsumu_ , _Atsumu_.

“I’m gonna cum, shit. I’m gonna—” Words melt into groans that fade into whimpers. Amidst the mess of slurred interjections coming from setballsonfire13 mouth, Kiyoomi can recognize the custom-made, shortened version of his given name, an exclusivity accessible only to the small group of people oblivious to his online persona:

“Omi-kun!” He hears, crystal clear despite the haziness in his head.

And then: a full-body shudder jolts him into a sudden and overpowering orgasm, knocking him down with his chest to the floor, arms tossed around himself haphazardly.

_Omi-kun. Omi-kun. Omi-kun._

His hips keep rolling to the familiar lilt of the nickname, his skin shivers at the blissed-out tone in which it was chanted with. Moans slip past his lips on their own accord, shaped around the owner of such intonation's name. It's a foreign sound in Kiyoomi's voice, but it makes his uneven heartbeat grow louder and his fists balled tighter.

"Atsumu. Atsumu. Atsumu," he dares to call aloud, again and again, until the pleasure in his groin spreads all over his entire being and he reaches his climax once more, trembling with the trisyllable rhythmical rings of aftershocks.

When the first hint of awareness finally kicks in, Kiyoomi slides away from the toy and forces himself up to sit on his ankles. He sighs in place with his back to the camera, not knowing what to expect from the screen behind him once he turns around.

Awkwardness, embarrassment, a wide grin, and a confession; he finds none of those when he finally faces the other way. The messages exchanged during the call greet him, with the addition of a new timestamp that informs him that the call had ended; that it has been over for the last seven minutes.

He doesn’t give in to his urge to scream. Despair won’t help him understand how the convergence of his hopeless crush and his platonic escapade, Atsumu and setballsonfire13, the two witnesses of the opposing natures of Kiyoomi's dual identities, came about. Even _understanding_ feels pointless now that Kiyoomi considers the potential outcomes.

Atsumu is definitely not the first person to come to mind when secretiveness and discretion are mentioned, as he’s exuberant like no other. But this is different than telling their teammates about Kiyoomi taking the same way as he and his friends every Thursday or revealing the synchronized attack strategy under development to Suna, Aran, and Riseki before the season even starts. Kiyoomi’s career is on the line, and Atsumu must be aware of the consequences of exposing him. Thus far, Atsumu had represented safety to Kiyoomi, in a volleyball context, and Kiyoomi would trust someone as dedicated to the sport as he is to not endanger that.

_But how…? How did he even find out about me?_

_Was it just now or has he known for a while?_

_Did I fuck something up in the previous streams? Or maybe I forgot to crop one of the nudes?_

_He wouldn’t have kept this up if he knew though, would he? What if he just found out and that’s why he hung up? Fuck, he must have been so weirded out... This is so embarrassing, my god. I’ll never be able to look him in the face again. Sakusa Kiyoomi, you fucking idiot._

_But…_

_He came, right? Hard. Saying my name, knowing it was me… If there’s any chance he knew it already, it could mean…_

Kiyoomi’s mind overworks itself with the same thoughts repeating over and over again as he cleans the room, showers, heats up his dinner leftovers, and then eats them for lunch. The three hours left before evening practice seem to drag out for ages. He wonders if he should text Atsumu, or maybe setballsonfire13, to try and settle things before they meet later, but all his attempts at approaching the subject seem awkward and unnatural or extend into long ramblings that could only serve to compromise Kiyoomi even further if he actually sent them.

 _Volleyball_ , he decides as a measure to fight his restlessness, getting up in one swift motion. In no less than 5 minutes he’s ready to leave for the gym where the U19 team should be practicing soon. The professional string players are always welcome to help with the teens, if he recalls correctly, which is what the managers had told him during his first week in MSBY, and there’s no need for a heads-up before showing up. It’s the perfect way to distract his mind for now.

On his way back to the gym, he passes by _Akabeko_ for the third time today. Unconsciously, he peers inside on the lookout for any familiar faces.  
  


*  
  


“Sakusa-senshu! Thank you for coming!” The physical trainer that works as a coach for the youth team greets him with a kind smile. “The kids are warming up now, but practice should start soon. Usually, when the pros are here, we have them watch and give them tips, but let me know if you have anything special in mind.”

“That should work. I’ll do my best to instruct them well with your permission, Tamura-san.”

On the other side of the gym, Kiyoomi can see curious faces gaping at him. He only played a handful of games for the Jackals, but he understands that to some of these kids, Kiyoomi probably has the most relatable career path so far, taking the long way through college after high school before getting to play professionally, so the commotion is to be expected.

“Please tell them they are free to ask questions too, if they want,” he adds, mindful of any potential inquiries about matters related to the sport.

“Thank you!” Tamura-san excuses himself to gather the team and explain drills.

From afar, Kiyoomi watches the spikers align behind the attack line and the liberos take the other side of the court. They alternate receives as the spikers keep them coming, one after the other, and Kiyoomi finds no issues in either of the liberos’ forms. Kiyoomi is sure Inunaki doesn’t intend to retire anytime soon, but if anything were to happen, MSBY could definitely find a successor up to par right here. The setters, on the other hand, are—

“Hey, Ueda!” one Miya Atsumu says while barging into the gym, pointing and shouting at the bald guy at the net, who’d been consistently setting low balls to all of the hitters in line. Kiyoomi tries to ignore the way his head goes radio silent and his heart starts racing in his chest the second his ears capture the sound of his voice. “You better work hard on those back sets today ‘cause you’re still—” Atsumu immediately loses track of his words once his gaze meets Kiyoomi sitting on the bleachers. “What are _you_ doing here?”

His tone tells Kiyoomi that Atsumu’s almost as nervous as him, if not _more_ , and there’s a chance Kiyoomi isn’t hallucinating the pallor of the skin around his blown-wide eyes.

“ _Atsumu…”_ he starts, without knowing the right words to continue. He hadn’t been ready to text Atsumu from the comfort of his home just moments prior, let alone _face_ him right here, in front of the confused stares of the entire U19 team. The place where apparently Atsumu had also considered as a good enough place to pull himself together after that afternoon’s events.

The setter’s brows arch further up on his face, and though his lips part, nothing comes out. Kiyoomi sits through his silence, looking at him expectantly. He himself isn’t sure of what to say, or if he even has a voice to speak, but Atsumu is never speechless for long.

Except for now, it seems.

Without saying a word, Atsumu spins on his heels and takes a deep breath, followed by a step forward towards the door he’d come through less than thirty seconds before. It’s only by the time he reaches the gym’s entrance that Kiyoomi realizes that Atsumu is running away again. That he’s leaving him hanging again.

“I’m sorry, Tamura-san, guys…” Kiyoomi gets up and bows, “but I really need to get going.”

And without waiting for an answer, he leaves them behind, hurrying to chase after Atsumu in long strides.

He catches him on the way to his car, parked right in front of the Arena, fumbling with the keys. “Hey, Atsumu. Wait,” he shouts, slowing down as he gets closer to the gutter. The metallic surface of the car makes the space between them seem large, but the distance doesn’t stop Atsumu from flinching. The look on his face is pained; it’s the same one he wears when he insists on reviving past embarrassments out of the blue, and it’s directed everywhere but at Kiyoomi. “Let’s talk about this.”

Atsumu grimaces as if he had a Super Lemon candy roll inside his mouth for the last two hours. “What is it, Omi? Are you chasing me to call me a creep for watching you or something?”

“What? No… Atsumu, I need you to listen to me. Can I get in your car?”

Atsumu still doesn’t bestow him with a look, focused instead on staring at his feet. A whirlwind of despair and anxiety starts to grow in Kiyoomi’s stomach. He can’t have Atsumu running away and venting about this to anyone else, no matter how uncomfortable it might be for them to have this conversation now. “Please, we can’t do this here.”

Atsumu huffs, but he nods at his plea. He unlocks the doors and pulls his open with a rough tug, after which he enters the car quietly. Kiyoomi follows suit, taking a seat with his back against the closed door. Atsumu is leaning over the steering wheel, with his face hidden between his hands that clench around the vinyl once Kiyoomi opens his mouth to speak.

He doesn’t really know how to start, but the clock is ticking. Atsumu could decide to kick him out at any second, so he just starts with the first thing that comes to mind.

“I’m sorry that you got involved in this, Atsumu. It’s a side gig of mine that was supposed to be a secret, and no one was ever supposed to find out it was me behind twinkiyo, least of all one of my teammates. I had no idea that you were setballsonfire13, and if I did I would never have let things get to this point. I don’t know what it is that I fucked up but I’m sorry that you found out. I never meant to put you in this position…”

At some point during his rambling, Atsumu raises his head from its hiding spot. He watches Kiyoomi blurt out his apologies with an indecipherable blank stare on his face until he lifts one stretched palm to end the speech.

“It’s fine, Omi, you can cut the crap,” he interrupts when Kiyoomi refuses to put a stop to the endless flow of his contrite pleas. “I don’t know why you’re playing nice right now, but I know it’s bullshit.”

Kiyoomi looks at him with alarm painted all over his expression. Atsumu is speaking seriously, looking at Kiyoomi with his eyes narrowed into slits. He places his hand over his chest, and while letting out a tired sigh, he confesses: “it’s been a while since I thought it was you.”

_Wait, what?_

“I was pretty sure even before the final confirmation today with the timing and the gym clothes, but I already suspected—or hoped it was you, I don’t even know anymore—since the first picture you sent... And I’ve watched you all this time anyway.”

_Pause. What do you mean you “hoped”?_

“So go ahead and call me a creep or a perv or whatever you want. And it’s fine if you never want to look at my face again that’s fine, I get it.”

_No._

_No, no, no. That’s not it._

“Atsumu, wait. So you knew? And you didn’t say anything?”

“Huh?! Why would I say anything? Don’t you think I’m a perv?”

“Not to me, you idiot. You didn’t tell anyone else?”

“And risk having _other people_ know that I’m a perv? Not a chance, Omi. Sorry for not promoting you or something, if that’s what you wanted.”

Finally, Kiyoomi can feel his shoulders relax. The anxiety crawling up his stiff spine dissolves into laughter, and he relaxes his stance against the car door. He knew he could trust Atsumu of all people, as twisted as his character may be sometimes.

“Fuck. That’s good then,” he sighs in relief, causing Atsumu to look utterly puzzled. “I was scared this could affect my volleyball career if people found out. Thank you for not telling anyone. Even if it was for self-preservation, I still appreciate it.”

“What the fuck are you saying thank you for, Omi? Didn’t I creep you out just now with everything I said?” The dismay in his face amuses Kiyoomi plenty. He’s more interested in knowing what Atsumu meant by _hoping_ and why he stuck with his undercover identity as setballsonfire13 than shaming him for jacking off to porn of all things.

“I don’t mind the fact that you watched all that, Atsumu. If I cared about who watches it, I just wouldn’t be doing it at all.” As Atsumu seems to assess his words, he continues, “I was scared before that _you_ would think that _I’m_ weird, but that doesn’t seem to be the case, am I right?” He shoots Atsumu a small, joyful smile.

“Uh…” Atsumu curls in on himself, looking out of the window to avert Kiyoomi’s eyes. “I—No, Omi-kun, I’d never—I think you were really… I liked watching you.” From behind his strawberry blond hair, Kiyoomi can see his ears turning crimson. It’s cute, and if Kiyoomi’s guess is correct, it doesn’t come solely from a place of embarrassment.

Maybe talking would be too hard on Atsumu right now, having so much new information left to process.

But Kiyoomi isn’t convinced that Atsumu has gotten his point despite all his explanations, and he has one thing in mind that might help clear everything up.

“You know.” Kiyoomi begins his confession, scooting closer to the opposite edge of his seat. “I liked watching setballsonfire13 too. A lot.”

“Seriously, what are you even saying…” Atsumu turns to face Kiyoomi again, still confused despite himself.

“He was also fun to talk to…” Kiyoomi’s hand reaches for Atsumu’s thigh, sliding down its width to where the fabric of Atsumu’s shorts seem to be to stretching uncomfortably.

“Omi-kun, you seriously better stop fucking with me right now or else—”

Kiyoomi leans closer to his reddened ear.

“How about we go to my place, Atsumu?”  
  


*  
  


Kiyoomi’s pinned against the door of his apartment as soon as it closes behind him.

His chest ignites with fire as Atsumu presses his body flush against his own, kissing him with a hunger that Kiyoomi revels in the power of satiating. Just as avidly, Kiyoomi kisses him back, arms crossed tightly around his neck, legs parting to slot him in between them.

The slide of Atsumu’s fingers under his shirt leave invisible burning marks on the skin of his stomach. It’s a feeling he welcomes on his cock with a low hiss of satisfaction unleashed amidst the disarray of hair tickling his cheeks.

As he strokes Kiyoomi to full hardness, Atsumu alternates nips to his earlobes with small flatteries whispered at his ear.

“You’re so hot, Omi,” he says in a voice that reduces Kiyoomi to a humming mess.

“I’ve been dreaming of touching you like this for so long.” His brazen fingers skim around Kiyoomi’s hip to grab his ass.

“I wanna know how you feel when I’m touching you here,” Atsumu says, and with a strong grip, he pulls Kiyoomi forward to grind on his cock, making him mewl. “I wanna hear you moan my name when I fuck you,” his fingertips press against Kiyoomi’s entrance before he enters him with two fingers. “You don’t even need me to prep you, do you? But I wanna feel you in every way I can.”

Kiyoomi, too, wants to feel him whole, just like that.

Taking hold of Atsumu’s hand, Kiyoomi pulls away to lead them to his bedroom where he pushes Atsumu to sit on his bed and helps him out of his shorts with determined fingers.

“ _I’m no god, though,_ ” Atsumu had said once in their online chats, but he sure looks like one sitting there in front of Kiyoomi, lips swollen and eyelids heavy with arousal, erect in all his glory.

Kiyoomi is eager to worship him on his knees.

Wrapping his hand around Atsumu’s cock, he feels its weight on his fingers as he strokes it tightly, contemplating the way the head emerges from behind the hood with each blow.

He’s quick to get it to his mouth, swirling his tongue around the foreskin and up the slit, savoring the taste of Atsumu with his eyes closed. Just the day before he’d fantasized about licking the curved underside from hilt to head, and today he wastes no opportunity to do so.

Atsumu keens at the fast motion applied to his frenulum, falling into deep moans once Kiyoomi mouths it fully, dragging his hollowed cheeks from the middle to the tip with loud sucks.

Atsumu’s hands finds purchase in soft curls, where his thick fingers entangle dark locks and pull back, demanding eye contact from Kiyoomi as he suckles tirelessly on Atsumu’s cock.

The sparkle he finds in Atsumu’s eyes lights up the aggressive fire of his will, and following a couple of promising deep dives in, Kiyoomi takes the full length down to the back of his throat, humming to give it even more effect. From how Atsumu wails, this seems to work as expected.

“Aren’t you dirty, Omi-kun?” Atsumu says, slapping him on the cheek a couple of times with the head of his cock. “Who would have thought you were so good at this.” Curling down, he pulls Kiyoomi into a kiss. Their lips explore each other slowly but fully as Atsumu’s tongue wraps itself around Kiyoomi’s, soft and hot in its languid slide in and out of his mouth.

Eyelashes brush over Kiyoomi’s cheekbone, and he smiles into the kiss. His hand works Atsumu’s boner while their lips occupy each other’s, and it’s heavenly and sweet, but it only makes Kiyoomi grow hungrier.

He gets back on his feet, looming over Atsumu without breaking their kiss. Instinctively, Atsumu leans back, giving Kiyoomi room on his lap. In no time, Kiyoomi is pantsless on top of him, humping his cock, guided by the strong hands squeezing his ass. The moans echoing during their kiss belong to neither and both of them, just like the thrum rocking their glued chests in unison.

With a sudden lunge upward and around, Atsumu flips them over, his hips landing heavily against Kiyoomi’s crotch. Their lips finally part, but their eyes stay locked as Atsumu rummages the bed for a pillow. He steadies himself on his feet and removes his weight from Kiyoomi’s front, planting kisses on his neck and jaw and chin before moving down to mouth at his nipple.

Different from a sex toy, Atsumu’s mouth is warm and supple around his areola, gentle on the nub as his teeth tease it with small nips in between sucks. Kiyoomi is hardly ever able to feel good when he plays with them himself, but Atsumu pulls whimpers out of him with such ease that Kiyoomi is confident in saying his nipples are one of his most sensitive zones.

“You’re so fucking pretty. Do you know that, Omi?” Atsumu runs his hands all over his fair complexion on his way up to a standing position. “On court, at practice, at the bus with your hair messy after a long ride.” A large hand grabs the back of Kiyoomi’s knee, bending him in half with a gentle push. “I really like looking at you.” The little patch of skin on Kiyoomi’s calf where Atsumu places a kiss overheats, sending waves of intense warmth up throughout the full extent of Kiyoomi’s body.

Easing the arch of Kiyoomi’s back onto the pillow slotted under his hips, Atsumu kneels on the floor between his spread legs. “You look pretty even here,” he says, leaning forward to burrow his face in the space between his asscheeks. The little composure Kiyoomi had left falls apart once Atsumu gives his entrance a long, delicious lap.

“Fuck.” He moans and squirms as Atsumu sucks and kisses the surface of his hole, circling it with the tip of his tongue. “It feels so good, fuck… Atsumu...” Kiyoomi rolls back on his face when his tongue enters him, fingers threading in his hair to hold him in place.

In none of his fantasies had Kiyoomi considered that he’d be so close to the edge during foreplay, but hell if he cares about holding back right now, with Atsumu’s sharp tongue fucking his ass and licking his cock so willingly. His moans become louder, his breath shorter, his mind so fuzzy he can only recognize the urge of coming and his need to give in to it. “Fuck me. Now.”

Without a word, Atsumu takes his place back on top of Kiyoomi, kissing him and rubbing their cocks together. He hooks Kiyoomi’s legs over his arms, and Atsumu lifts him off the bed by pulling him up with his hands spread on the small of his back. The display of strength takes Kiyoomi’s breath away, and he keens at the feeling of the head of Atsumu’s cock brushing against his hole as he hangs from his chest, holding himself up with arms locked around his neck.

Atsumu walks them around the bed like that, taking a seat next to the bedside drawer. “Just lube,” Kiyoomi says, amidst humps that draw hisses from the both of their lips.

“Wait, Omi-kun. Are you sure? I know I’m clean but still, are you ok with...”

Atsumu looks him in the eye, and the concern Kiyoomi finds in his furrowed brows just encourages him to maintain his stance.

“Just the lube,” Kiyoomi repeats and then nods, resuming his rolling. The bottle turns up after some rummaging around, and he takes it from Atsumu’s hand before he can open it. “You want me to ride you?” he asks, smearing a dollop over Atsumu’s shaft under him. He smirks at Atsumu, who mirrors it instantly.

“Fuck yes,” he answers, taking Kiyoomi’s waist in his hands and then leaning back against the headboard.

The way Atsumu licks his lips affects Kiyoomi as much as the pressure slotting into him as he sinks down on him slowly.

He can _finally_ feel that magnificent cock inside him, and the fact that it’s _Atsumu’s_ heightens the sensations to their full power. The small moans he used to hear from behind a screen spew shamelessly and directly into his ear when he rolls and throws his hips with purpose; they vibrate on his tongue when he leans in to take the lips of a face finally freed from the virtual mask that kept them apart until now.

“Atsumu,” Kiyoomi calls out hoarsely as he drowns in the pleasure emanating from the palpable flesh before and inside him. His arms tighten around Atsumu’s neck. Fingers knotted in soft hair pull tighter as climax approaches, and overworked thighs crumble before the imminent flood of bliss that’s hastily nearing.

“I’m gonna come.” The announcement is given after Atsumu thrusts up to compensate for Kiyoomi’s momentary lack of stamina. With his hold on Kiyoomi’s waist secured, he fucks into him hard with committed precision, moaning at the sight of Kiyoomi coming undone from his ministrations.

“ _Atsumu_...” Kiyoomi cries out his name as he spills over his stomach and chest, body going stiff under the force of a thunderous orgasm tottering under his skin. “Fuck.” He drops back on his hands, hole still at the mercy of Atsumu’s climax, ribcage heaving to make room for his faltering breath.

“Omi, I’m close,” Atsumu’s hands clench around the soft skin of Kiyoomi’s thighs. “You feel so good, so tight,” he mumbles, losing the rhythm of his thrusts, eyes squeezed shut. “I’m gonna—Can I—”

“Fill me up, Atsumu.” Kiyoomi sinks down on his cock one last time, pliant and willing and greedy, asking for it with his whole being rather than just with his words. “Come inside me.”

He barely finishes his appeal when he feels Atsumu’s hips stutter under him, filling his insides with ripples of thick heat and moaning his name like he had in their call just a couple of hours prior.

Kiyoomi leans forward to lie on top of him, and with a sloppy, wet kiss, he drinks in his last moans, smiling sweetly in his blissed out state.

They trade small pecks as they collect their bearings and catch up on their breathing, humming and giggling at the bubbly feeling taking over their overjoyed selves.

Kiyoomi rolls from atop Atsumu to lay down beside him.

“So you think I’m pretty?”

Atsumu still has the nerve to look away despite everything that just transpired. “I might have said so, I think. Yes.”

Kiyoomi laughs. “And that’s what you meant by ‘ _hoping it was me_ ’, before?”

Atsumu grimaces, and the flush on his face becomes darker.

“You should have told me… when you found out it was me.”

“Oh? And how exactly was I supposed to do that, Omi-kun?” He retorts, his tone reclaiming its signature smug lilt. “I can’t just walk into practice telling my teammates I watched their sex tapes,” he chuckles, looking at Kiyoomi from behind the adorable crinkles of his eyes. Then his stare turns worried, brows heavy with something like regret. “Besides…”

“I wouldn’t have thought you were weird, you know. For real.” Kiyoomi takes his hand and gives it a light squeeze. “It probably would’ve saved us a lot of time, actually.”

“You just couldn’t wait for setballsonfire13’s fat cock, right, Omi?” Atsumu smirks, mischievous and surprisingly still oblivious to the nature of Kiyoomi’s feelings.

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes, in utter disbelief of himself for liking such a clueless guy. “No. I think you’re pretty too, Atsumu. I’ve thought so for some time now.”

Atsumu’s eyes go wide again, round and shiny, like the world just opened up before him.

It’s this expression on Atsumu that Kiyoomi has always liked best.

“What?”

He gestures to the space in between where their bodies lie naked and spent next to each other. “I like you. Not setballsonfire13, or just your cock. I like _you_.” Saying the confession aloud feels like a weight lifted off of his chest. “I don’t think there’s a reason to hide it anymore, is there?”

The crushing weight of uncertainty that has kept Kiyoomi on edge all day finally subsides, only to be replaced by Atsumu’s. He’s warm, and the weight of his flesh rolls over him once again, trapping him under the comfort of a tight embrace.

"If it's like that..." Atsumu chuckles. "Then I must confess something too, Omi-kun."

Blinking slowly, Kiyoomi's gaze fixes his honey-dipped one.

"I don't always shower after nutting."

Kiyoomi looks at him, appalled. "Don't ruin it," he says, serious.

He doesn't really mean it.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're reading this: thank you So Much for making this far! It's my first time writing something so long, so it really does mean the world to me that someone would read through this little horny monster until the end.
> 
> The hugest, most special thanks to [Akane](https://twitter.com/bottomikun), who did a beautiful job betaing this fic for me <3 I love you
> 
> Find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/kinkyoomi), where I don't really say anything.
> 
> As always, kudos and comments are very appreciated, so feel free to leave them. Here's the [fic graphics](https://twitter.com/kinkyoomi/status/1368022917058097158), if you would like to share it.


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